Forced Perception
by westwerk
Summary: Auror Harry Potter gets thrown back in time to 1898, Albus Dumbledore's seventh year at Hogwarts. Can Harry resist making changes and get back to 1998 before Dumbledore learns all about him? Post DH. Follows most canon, but time travel. Grindelwald later. Complete.
1. 1: The Visitor

**Chapter 1: _The Visitor_**

Early morning classes were in session. Chattering from practical teachings drifted down the hallways, students enjoying their free period walked along the halls to their common room, or hurried with last minute homework before class began.

There was nothing unusual at all about the day; on the contrary, it was very usual for a September afternoon. But, it wasn't usual at all; at least, it wouldn't be. In the next few moments a pop would sound on the seventh floor near a medieval tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Of course, the only witness would be an auburn haired wizard walking along the corridor and humming a short tune.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in class, wistfully taking notes as his teacher, Professor Garside, lectured on the act of changing appearances. Dumbledore, who had gotten a perfect score on the Transfiguration O.W.L, was already confident that he knew how to change his appearance. He'd found a way to do that in third year. To be perfectly honest, Dumbledore didn't understand how others couldn't grasp the concepts.

Magic came so easy to him: it was like he had found the perfect recipe for a soft, creamy butter that wouldn't tear his bread, but no one else could seem to get the ingredients right. Their butter was still too hard, less creamy. By the time they had pulverized their bread, he was spreading his favorite raspberry jam on his own.

But, Dumbledore realized that was another matter completely. He knew cooking wasn't at all like the process of magic. If there was anything Dumbledore couldn't do, it was to make the perfect butter. He'd save that job for his mother, who could make the most delightful goat's milk butter anyone could ever taste.

Dumbledore chuckled darkly to himself, thinking about the goats in his backyard in Godric's Hollow. His brother had always been fascinated by those goats- Pokey and Hokey. Every summer that Albus had been home, he'd watch Aberforth out the kitchen window as he fed and milked the goats. He always talked to them quietly as if they were his best friends. Sometimes Dumbledore wondered if they were, in fact, his best friends. He hadn't once seen Aberforth with someone in the Gryffindor common room in the four years Aberforth had been there. Though, Dumbledore had an amazing ability to stay in place for long periods of time while doing evening research in the library, so that might have been the reason.

"Albus," came a whisper to his right. A thin, dark-haired boy was looking at him with bright brown eyes.

"Yes?" Albus asked his best friend.

Elphias Doge pointed behind them. Albus glanced around and noticed mostly everyone else had their heads down on the desk or else not paying attention at all. Albus hummed, dropped his quill and let his fingers slide together.

"I shall be back," Dumbledore whispered, standing up easily. He made almost no noise despite his height as he slipped passed Professor Garside.

Dumbledore's pace quickened. He hummed as he made his way down the seventh floor hallway. Something was not right. He knew that. He stopped right in front of Barnabus, humming, and fingering his wand in his robe pocket. Dumbledore wished he had some kind of sweet with him. He wanted to believe that the strange feeling would go away if he had something to chew. He was hungry, anyway, which probably accounted for thinking about buttered bread during Transfiguration. He'd missed breakfast because he'd over slept.

Abruptly, Dumbledore spun around, his wand already out. The pop that sounded was loud and deep, and the sound of bones, muffled by fabric against the floor was even worse. He looked down at the stone and noticed a boy lying there, right in front of him, in blue robes. He'd been right.

He didn't hesitate. The boy seemed to be unconscious, anyway. But, he didn't drop his wand. He leaned down close to the dark-haired boy. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, Dumbledore decided. That would put him around his own age, seventeen. Slowly, Dumbledore pushed back the boy's hair to feel his forehead, but, instead, he noticed some kind of scar there. He let out a low hum and fingered the lightening shaped scar.

The boy jerked, but that was it. Albus looked around as if the boy's name was carved in the stonewall.

"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked lowly. In some ways, he looked like Atticus Potter, a third year, but Albus couldn't be sure. His nose was a different shape, and his eyes were, too. Just his hair and facial structure were about the same. His glasses, though, were nothing Dumbledore had ever seen. They didn't look much like glass lenses. For a short time, Dumbledore contemplated what to do. But, he'd rather not go to Professor Black. Black had a rather short temper with him ever since he found out that… well, it wasn't important.

What was important was the boy lying in front of him. Should he wake him? Dumbledore thought about it, and just to be safe, searched through the boy's pockets until he found a wand. Holly and phoenix feather, Dumbledore thought. He hadn't been aware that Ollivander had sold the one of the wands with Fawkes' feather inside.

"Enervate," Dumbledore said. The phoenix wand's owner jerked again, but this time, he groaned and his eyes flashed open. Dumbledore caught sight of green eyes. "Hello," Dumbledore said in the friendliest voice he could muster.

After a few moments of studying Dumbledore, he shot up into a standing position. Dumbledore stood as well, noticing he was a number of inches taller than the boy.

The boy swayed a little. Dumbledore caught his shoulder.

"Who are you?" The boy asked.

Dumbledore shook his head wearily. "No, my dear boy, the question is who are you?"

He blinked, recognition coming to his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore?" he said.

Dumbledore chuckled at the word 'professor.' "Indeed, I am Dumbledore. Professor, no."

The boy swayed again like he was going to fall, but he seemed to hold his ground.

"What's your favorite type of jam?" he asked.

What an odd question. A coincidence, really, since he'd been thinking it earlier. "Raspberry. And yours?"

He didn't respond to his question, instead he said, "You are Dumbledore."

Dumbledore nodded. "May I ask your name?" he asked again, hoping that he would actually respond this time.

"Harry P-" the boy said, trailing off like something was wrong. "Er, can you tell me what year it is?"

What an even more odd question. Dumbledore decided to answer. "It's '98," he said like it was simple.

"Of what century?" the boy, Harry, asked.

"The nineteenth."

Harry swayed again, and like before, kept his ground. He glanced around, for the first time taking his eyes off Dumbledore, which he realized he hadn't done. This Harry person seemed harmless to him, but Dumbledore reasoned, that might have been because he had taken away his wand. His mind was working fast, though. What should he do? Should he go to Professor Black? Or should he go to Professor Merrythought, who, of all people, was the professor Dumbledore trusted the most.

"How old are you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Eighteen," he said immediately. He seemed to rethink that, though. "Well, if this is really 1898, then negative 82."

Dumbledore, for the first time in all his Hogwarts days, found himself confused. "Negative?" he asked himself quietly. He thought about that for a moment, and finally realized something. No one could apparate or disapparate inside Hogwarts except Houseelves. "Negative!" he exclaimed. "How did you do it?"

Harry's lips curved into something of a smile. His eyes didn't shine. "I was pushed into a batch of new turners in the Department of Mysteries. I didn't think I'd turn up in Hogwarts or during your time."

Rapidly, Harry's face changed; his smile disappeared and he looked sad. Dumbledore wasn't sure what to make of this. He didn't understand why this boy had been in the Department of Mysteries. Now that he had a good look at him, Harry didn't seem at all like the sixteen- or eighteen as he had learned- year old he thought he had been. He looked years older in his eyes.

"What were you doing in there?" Dumbledore asked suspiciously. He still wasn't sure if he should be trusted.

Harry seemed to hesitate. "I'm an Auror," he said. Dumbledore had a hard time believing it, but he looked down at Harry's robes and realized he was wearing the Auror insignia on the royal blue robes. "There was a break-in in my time. We were trying to capture them."

"An 18 year old Auror?" Dumbledore said.

"The Ministry needed people," he said simply.

"When is your time again?" Dumbledore asked.

"1998."

Dumbledore felt excitement rise up in his chest. 1998! That was a hundred years from now! He had calculated that in his head when Harry had said negative 82, but to actually hear it caused him to realize that there was an actual time traveler at Hogwarts. However, he tried not to get too excited. Although he had never known of one, he knew to be cautious. He couldn't hear anything about his own future. But, if Harry knew who he was, then he must still be alive.

"Don't tell me anything else," Dumbledore said. He glanced around the corridor, saw no one, and quickly dashed off down the hallway. He could hear footsteps behind him as Harry caught up. He led the way down a staircase to the Defense Against the Dark Art's classroom. Dumbledore slipped into it and found Merrythought sitting at her desk.

"Mr. Dumbledore," she said. "Shouldn't you-"

When she caught sight of Harry behind him, she didn't go on.

"I questioned him," Dumbledore said, glancing at him as he fell beside him. "He's an Auror, but he had a little mishap in the Department of Mysteries."

Merrythought stood. Her black dress flowed behind her as she gracefully came toward them. Although she was young and had only been teaching for three years, Dumbledore trusted her greatly. She had won several awards for dueling and gave private lessons to Dumbledore when she had seen his skill.

"What sort of mishap?" she asked Harry in a whisper.

Harry glanced up at Dumbledore as if looking for guidance. A few long moments passed. He almost thought Harry wasn't going to say a word. "Time-turners," he said finally.

Merrythought drew in a breath, looking toward Dumbledore for confirmation. He nodded his head. He knew when people were lying, and Harry was not lying.

"What's your name?" she said.

"Harry Potter," he said carefully.

Dumbledore thought about Atticus Potter again. There was definitely a resemblance there. He had to ask and he did, "Are you related to Atticus Potter?" But Harry gave a small shrug.

"I know I'm related to the Peverells."

At that name, Dumbledore felt his stomach twist. He hadn't known that about the Potters. He wasn't given much time to think about it though because Professor Merrythought asked him what time he was from. Harry told her and the color of her skin grew faint. "What day?" was her next question.

"September 7th," Harry said.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. He traveled exactly one hundred years.

"Perhaps we should take this up with Professor Black," Merrythought said, studying Harry. "There's no way to send him back."

"What?" Harry said. "I have to go back!"

Merrythought sent him a look that Dumbledore often got, meaning that Harry had to be patient. "Of course you do. Of course. But, at the moment, there isn't a way."

"But-"

"There has to be a way," Dumbledore said, cutting into Merrythought's words. "There have been plenty of time-travelers. They had to get home somehow."

Dumbledore had done reading on time-travelers before. Ever since he'd come in contact with Nicolas Flamel, he'd been interested in time. However, he'd had other things to research, so he hadn't spent much time on it.

Merrythought sighed. "Can we trust him?" she asked.

Dumbledore retrieved Harry's wand from his pocket and held it up to look at it closely.

"How did you get my wand?" Harry said, but Dumbledore ignored him.

He shook his head, running his long fingers over the wood. He didn't know too much about wands. Like time, he'd only spent a small amount of effort researching them. But, he knew the two wands that Ollivander had made Fawkes' feathers with. One was holly, the other yew. Just in its weight, Dumbledore could tell this holly was lighter. It was softer in color than the yew as well.

Without a second thought, Dumbledore nodded. "He can be trusted."

He handed Harry back his wand. Just to be sure, his hand immediately went to his pocket where his own wand was, but Harry just pocketed his own and Dumbledore's hand relaxed.

The three stood in silence for a long time. Dumbledore studied the boy. Harry caught his eye and Dumbledore was hit with a flash of an old wizard with a long, white beard staring gravely at him; old, tired blue eyes peering over top half-moon spectacles.

Harry averted his eyes quickly, possibly realizing what had happened. "Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured. Merrythought gave him an odd look, but Dumbledore smiled. "I believe class will be ending soon. Although Elphias would gather my things for me, I must ask Professor Garside a question."

Merrythought surveyed Harry. Dumbledore wondered what she was thinking, but it didn't take long at all for him to find out: "You must be excellent at Defense, being an Auror so young. I have been needing an assistant. Would you be willing?"

"Defense was my best subject at Hogwarts," Harry said. "But, why are you asking? I can't stay here."

"Well, we have to figure out a way to get you back, right? If we turn you in to the Ministry, I doubt they would go lightly on you. There might be a way to have you stay here. I hate to do it, but I could get a good friend to forge documents for you. He's been around a long time. Come, I will take you to Professor Black. That way, you can stay at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled. "Are you sure this will work?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

Dumbledore nodded. Merrythought was a very smart woman. He trusted her very much. Then, Dumbledore swept out of the room, leaving Harry Potter behind with Professor Merrythought.

Dumbledore made it in just in time to hear the bell ring. Everyone stood, chattering immediately as Garside yelled, "Two feet next class discussing human transfiguration!" Dumbledore spotted Elphias stuffing his book into his bookbag.

"What took you so long?" Elphias asked him, handing Dumbledore his own bag, which he had packed up for him.

"I'll tell you as soon as it's sorted out," he said. "But, I have to ask Garside something. I'll meet you in the common room after dinner."

Elphias gave him a curt nod. "Farewell, dear friend." Dumbledore chuckled as Elphias lifted his arms and walked away as if asking the heavens why Dumbledore had to abandon him.

"Professor," Dumbledore said, stepping up to his desk in the front where he was shifting through the homework that had been turned in earlier in class. Dumbledore noticed his loopy handwriting found its way to be first on the stack.

Garside wasted no time. "Have you finished the thesis?"

Dumbledore mutely opened his bag and pulled out the scroll. Garside grinned pleasantly as he took it away gently as if it were an ancient document.

"Beautiful," he said, carefully unrolling to see the title. "I'll read over it and send it off to Transfiguration Today."

He had already begun reading it, probably expecting Dumbledore to say thank you and leave. But, that did not happen. Dumbledore stayed put. "Professor," he said.

"Yes?" His eyes still flickered across the page.

"How much would you say," he paused, uncertain. If the Potters were really related to the Peverell's, then, just maybe… "I mean to say, how much truth are in children's stories?"

The only thing Garside moved was his eyes. "Why, may I ask?"

Dumbledore didn't waste any time in making up an excuse. It had crossed his mind before Harry mentioned the Peverell's. "They're told to teach a lesson to children. The tales take characters and put them into situations where an error has occurred. The error makes the whole story, and without the error, the story would have never taken place."

Garside seemed lost, his heavy eyebrows twisting into a small, knotted indention. "This is true. However, they are stories, Albus. Myths."

"Myths are based on some sort of fact, Professor."

Dumbledore thought Garside was going to disagree with him, as he liked to do frequently. Apparently he was under the impression that Dumbledore knew too much, and to be honest, he believed that. Garside liked to prove him wrong.

After a moment's pause, Garside clasped the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I'm not much a historian, Albus. Professor Binns might be a better person to go to."

Dumbledore inwardly cringed. Even though Garside thought Dumbledore arrogant, at least he tried to consider what Dumbledore had to say. He liked to lay caution on his side rather than letting him do whatever he wanted to do as most of the other teacher's allowed because Dumbledore had already surpassed them. He guessed all that Garside wanted to do was ground him somewhat.

Binns, though, couldn't care less. To him, Dumbledore was a regular student. Whatever Dumbledore had to say had no effect on him. He told the truth plainly, and it was always based on fact and not myths. Once Dumbledore had approached him in his second year about the Founder's of Hogwarts. He wanted to know if the Chamber of Secrets was real. Binns dismissed him, saying, "Stories are just stories, Theodore," like Garside had said and walked away, up to his office, probably to research Goblin's more.

"I know what you're thinking," Garside said as he picked up the scroll again. Dumbledore looked at the stone floor. "They're not real. Stick to what you know. You know Transfiguration."

In truth, Garside had no idea what Dumbledore was thinking. This caused him to sigh. He realized he had lost the argument without really trying. "Yes, Professor."

He nodded curtly, signaling that Dumbledore should leave. He didn't hesitate, spinning on his heel and ran full out toward the Headmaster's office.

Harry Potter was seated across from Phineas Nigellus Black for the first time in his entire life. The strangeness of this irked Harry. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He'd only ever seen Phineas in the portrait next to Dumbledore's desk, and when he actually looked up over the bookcase, the portrait was gone, replaced with the stone wall.

Merrythought was arguing with the Professor. "He applied, sir. You know I've been looking for an assistant."

"None of the teacher's have assistant's," was Phineas's reply. He was still as blunt and cold as Harry remembered him to be.

Merrythought seemed to hold back her true feelings. Harry suspected she spoke her mind quite often. "Of course. But I'm doing other research outside of Hogwarts. I'm assisting Albus Dumbledore with an internship. It's a great deal of work."

"Oh, yes, Dumbledore," Phineas huffed. "Star student, Headboy, published, on the Junior Wizengamot. He could take every single N.E.W.T Hogwarts has to offer right now and gain Outstandings on them all. Why waste your energy when he knows it all?"

Harry could tell he was being at least a little sarcastic. He felt a little uncomfortable. Seeing Dumbledore so young was a shock. He'd seen pictures in Rita Skeeter's book, but those could hardly be compared to the real Dumbledore: the real one. He was there like he'd always been, but without a crooked nose, no long beard, and fully colored hair. It was a strange sight to see, but this was before Grindelwald had changed him. Harry didn't know what Dumbledore was really like at seventeen. If there was one thing Harry learned in the year after Dumbledore died, it was to not take too much stock in what he saw on the outside.

Harry glanced at Merrythought. He'd only heard of her in passing, so he wasn't sure how she'd respond.

"He still has much to learn, Phineas," she said frigidly. "This meeting is about an assistant; not how much you dislike Mr. Dumbledore. Now, all Mr. Potter would do is help me with lesson plans and demonstrations. I'd still do the grading and teaching. I just need someone to be my planner. I do get frazzled easily, you realize."

Phineas studied Harry, his black eyes scanning his face. Harry unconsciously reached up to pat down his bangs in an attempt to hide his scar. Phineas's eyes finally landed on his chest, where the Auror symbol was.

"You're an Auror? I hadn't realized there was a Potter in the di-"

The office door swung open. All three turned. Dumbledore stood there, his cheeks flushed, but not out of breath as he swiftly made his way to them. He stopped in between Merrythought and Harry.

"Mr. Dumbledore, we are having a private meeting," Phineas said, outraged, his eyes darkening.

Dumbledore nodded patiently, glancing down at Harry. There was a slight twinkle in his eye that caused Harry's heart to jump. It'd been a long time since he'd seen that.

"Professor Merrythought has kindly given her time to assist me with my studies, Professor," Dumbledore said. "She is friend's with Nicolas Flamel. As you know, I have been apprenticing with him for the past few months. She has never once failed to be there to aid us both." He paused as if to allow that to sink in. "Please, she needs an assistant."

"Why not a House-Elf? There are plenty in the kitchens," Phineas suggested.

Harry remained silent. To be honest, he didn't much understand why Dumbledore and Merrythought were sticking up for him as willingly as they were. If he had met with a time-traveler, he would have been right suspicious of him. But, then again in Dumbledore's time, there hadn't just been a war where he could only trust a few people. Dumbledore was a strong believer in chances, anyway.

"I need a human," said Merrythought. "One who isn't bound by a Master. Mr. Potter is competent."

They hadn't even seen what sort of magic he could do, Harry thought. "I'm willing, Professor," he assured.

Phineas gave a great sigh, but sent a suspicious look in Harry's direction. "Very well."

Merrythought and Harry stood. Dumbledore relaxed.

"Now, leave," he waved his hand, shooing them. As Harry left, he realized the office seemed too empty. Devices and trinkets were replaced with books about the Dark Arts and potions in vials. It seemed dark compared to what Dumbledore had made the office out to be, and just from that, he could tell the school was run much differently.

Merrythought's office was a floor down from the Headmaster's on the sixth floor. Harry walked slightly in front of Dumbledore. He was aware of how light Dumbledore's footsteps were compared to Merrythought's, whose heels clapped against the stone. Harry's trainer's squeaked a little, but with Dumbledore, there was only a light pattering.

"Now that that's out of the way," said Merrythought as she ushered the two boys into her office. Harry glanced around. Books were scattered about the room. There was a bookshelf, but as that overflowed with books, she had the rest in an assortment of stacks. On a small table behind her desk was what looked like a small workshop area, with metals pieces and things Harry couldn't even make out in vials like in Phineas's office. But, what seemed to stand out most to Harry was her desk, which was piled high with papers.

Dumbledore sat down on a Victorian style couch and crossed his legs, reaching over to the workshop table to grab something that looked like a snitch, but it was much more complex. The inside revealed parts and pieces that reminded Harry of a Muggle car motor.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped the device. An eerie sort of smoke ensued from the side, along with a high pitched squeak. He reached over again to get a small piece of metal and a Muggle screwdriver, which had a handle made of wood.

"Please sit down," Merrythought said, who was already seated comfortably in her plush chair behind her desk. Harry could barely see her because a stack of paper hid her face. He sat down next to Dumbledore.

"Thank you," Harry said during a short pause. "I mean, I don't understand how you trust me. I know if I was in your situation…" he trailed off, not really sure what to say.

"You didn't try to attack me," Dumbledore said like it explained it all. "And your wand. It has Fawkes' feather."

Harry became aware of the wand in his pocket. He liked it there. The thought of losing it again like he had for five months still haunted him.

"You already have Fawkes?" Harry asked, realizing what that meant.

Dumbledore nodded. "Nicolas gave him to me the first day we met. Such as kind fellow. I mean to say, both him and Fawkes." A goofy sort of grin fell onto Dumbledore's lips. "My brother thinks it's mad that I have a pet phoenix, but I say it's mad that he has two goats named Hokey and Pokey! Funny sort of creatures, they are."

As Dumbledore chuckled to himself, Harry tried to make sense of his humor but failed miserably. "Er, right," he said, looking toward Merrythought. "What am I going to do as your assistant?"

She smiled as if she were keeping a secret. "You're not going to be my assistant."

"Then, what-"

Merrythought didn't waste any time in explaining.

"I'm going to help you get back."

_AN: This is the first Harry Potter fan fiction I've written in a long time, and it's the first one that's going to be long. Before, I was a little 13 year old writing stories that only lasted as long as this first chapter. Now that I've had more writing experience, I'm able to write longer stories. I'm a second year college student at the moment, so please bear with me. As of right now I'm on Chapter 4. Also, I don't have a beta, so if some parts of this were difficult to read, I'm really sorry. Please tell me so I can fix them._

_Also, this will follow canon. It'll go on until after Dumbledore meets Grindelwald, which slash, but a very, very minimal amount. I think Dumbledore only had a crush on Grindelwald. Nothing else._

_One last thing, I realize that all the time-turners were destroyed during the battle of the Department of Mysteries. My answer to that is that the Unspeakables made more. And by batch, I mean, they were hanging on a wall, and Harry hit them. They weren't fully developed yet and that's the reason they took him so far back. This won't really come into the story at all, so that's why I'm saying this._

_Anyway, please review!_

_To Be Continued_


	2. 2: Elixir of Epoch

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

**Chapter 2: Elixir of Epoch**

Dumbledore slipped into the Great Hall that night at the end of dinner. Only a few students were milling about at the four tables, and Elphias was one of them. He slipped into the bench beside him and started filling up a plate with food. He hadn't eaten at all that day and he could feel the pangs of hunger in his stomach.

"Where have you been?" Elphias asked him. "You missed Charms."

Dumbledore chewed before replying. "I'll tell you when we get somewhere private. You wouldn't believe what's happened."

He glanced down the Gryffindor table and spotted Atticus Potter with a friend of his. His hair stuck up in the same spot as Harry's did. As Atticus stood up to leave, he noticed they had the same frame, too.

"I find anything that involves you hard to believe, Albus," Elphias said as he flipped the page of the Evening Prophet. His eyes immediately focused on one section of the page. "Ah, shame. Dexter Fortescue's son died. Can you believe that? Had Dragon Pox."

Dumbledore shook his head, moving closer to Elphias to read over his shoulder. He frowned as he read, remembering the former Headmaster's son while he was a seventh year during Dumbledore's first year. He had had a small son and a wife and they owned a sweet shop in Diagon Alley. Sighing wearily, he turned back to his meal. "I can never understand why some of the best people die young."

"Rotten bit of luck, I'd say," he said. "I did rather like him, though. He was the only seventh year who didn't laugh when I had Dragon Pox myself."

Dumbledore could remember that. He, too, hadn't minded that Elphias had Dragon Pox. Their two other dormmates weren't as sympathetic. Greyson Abbott and Thomas Witherson had tried to stay as far away from Elphias as possible until the green pimples had disappeared. They still rarely talked. Greyson and Thomas were best friends while Dumbledore and Elphias stuck together. Dumbledore didn't mind either of them, but he knew for a fact that they thought he was odd.

Elphias continued to read while Albus ate. He glanced down the table again. Only about six Gryffindors, including them, sat at the table. One of those included Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, who was silently sketching down at one end of the table nearest the empty teacher's table. Dumbledore filled a plate with dessert, and stood up. Elphias looked up, but when he saw Dumbledore was going the opposite way of the doors, with a plate in hand, he looked back down at the paper.

"Hello, Aberforth," Dumbledore said, dropping his plate down and sitting directly opposite his little brother. "What are you drawing?"

Aberforth grunted, "Hokey," in return and lifted his notebook up to show him. Dumbledore smiled at the drawing. Aberforth was quite a good artist, especially from memory. He'd gotten the likeness of Hokey well.

"Care for a treacle tart?" Dumbledore asked with a gesture to the plate he'd brought with him. Aberforth eyed it, but said, "No, thank you."

"It's delightful," Dumbledore said before taking a bite of one on his plate.

"Delightful my a-"

"That's no way to admire the cooks."

Aberforth glowered at Dumbledore as he grinned politely at him.

"Mother sent a letter today," Aberforth said.. He flipped to the front of his notebook to retrieve the parchment. He handed it to Dumbledore to unfold.

"'Dear Albus and Aberforth,'" he read aloud, recognizing their mother's handwriting, "'I hope your first week of school went wonderfully. I was talking to Mrs. Bagshot the other day about how well you both were doing in school-'" Aberforth huffed, saying. "Load of poppycock," but Dumbledore shushed him. "'She's writing a history book with a chapter dedicated to Hogwarts at the moment, and will be visiting in two weeks. If you see her, tell her hello. Ariana is doing well. She misses you both. I, too, miss your presence. With love from your mum, KD.'"

"How lovely," Aberforth said in a slight sarcastic tone. "I'm glad Ariana's doing well if anything."

Dumbledore nodded, taking another bite of his tart, and handing the letter back to Aberforth who carefully folded it and slipped it back into his notebook again. Aberforth stood, gathering up his school bag from the floor.

"Are you going back to the common room?" Dumbledore asked him. He gave a small nod. "May I join?"

"If you must," Aberforth said.

Dumbledore gathered up Elphias and the three boys made their way up to Gryffindor Tower. Elphias and Dumbledore were talking, but Aberforth held back some, trailing behind them as if he wasn't wanted.

"When did Mum say Mrs. Bagshot was coming?" Albus asked him even though he knew.

"Two weeks," he gruffed.

"A history book of the magical world?" Elphias said. "Have there been any of those, or is this the first?"

"It's the first since the Muggles invented the printing press," Dumbledore said. "I think someone wrote one in the fifteenth century, at least, that's what Madam Pince said."

Elphias laughed. "You've talked to her before?"

He gave a shrug. "She's not so bad. Maybe a little mad, but isn't everybody?"

"People say you're the maddest in the school, Albus," Aberforth said behind them. Elphias stopped chuckling at Aberforth's words. "With all your ridiculous inventions."

Albus laughed, humored. "I take pride in knowing how odd I am."

"Is that the only other thing you care about beside your marks?"

Dumbledore spun around. Aberforth stopped dead, just inches away. For a fourth year, he was practically as tall has his older brother. Elphias looked between them warily.

"I care about Ariana, if that's what you mean," Albus said calmly, though on the verge of irritability.

"How'd you know?" Aberforth asked quietly. "Whenever I see you, you're caught up in some new brilliant idea. If you cared half as much about your family as you do about your studies-"

"I care," he said.

Albus pulled out his wand at the same speed as Aberforth. But as Aberforth said, "Impedimenta!" a shield found its place in between them, although no other words had been said. The shield swallowed Aberforth's spell, which only made Aberforth angrier. But instead of cursing Albus, he dropped his hand and stalked off down the hall, his wand emitting red sparks.

Once he was out of sight, Albus shook his head. "He's been rather ill-tempered lately," he said calmly, turning back to Elphias. They continued on their way toward Gryffindor tower, but before they got to the seventh floor, Albus pulled him aside.

"I've got to show you something," he said quietly, grabbing onto Elphias's arm and pulling him left off the staircase.

"What is it?" he asked, his small eyes growing as wide as they could.

"You'll see."

Albus knocked on Merrythought's office with a quick rap. The door opened on it's own and the first thing Albus saw were yellow sparks lighting up the room, followed by a bright blue. He smiled. A duel was going on.

But what he didn't expect as he ushered Elphias in and shut the door was Harry dueling with Merrythought. Spells were flying everywhere, each getting rebounded or dodged. Harry moved out of the way of a stunner, which hit a glass vial behind him and exploded. The shards flew. Both Merrythought and Harry stopped dueling at the shattering sound. Harry turned, and realized the shards were coming toward him. Before they hit, Albus waved his wand and the glass turned to powder. Harry dropped his arms, a surprised expression on his face.

"Thanks," Harry said. Not even two second passed that he spun back around as Merrythought sent another spell at him. He deflected it easily. "Call it even?" he said.

Merrythought gave a wicked sort of grin, but dropped her hand down, ending the duel.

"Hm," Merrythought said. "Not bad at all. I can see why you're an Auror."

Harry pushed down his bangs again, looking slightly embarrassed. "I've had practice."

Albus took the moment to study him again. Harry had taken off his blue robes and was wearing some strange clothes in Albus's opinion; a plain short-sleeved shirt and a pair of trousers in the fabric that farmers in the Muggle part of Godric's Hollow wore. Albus didn't even attempt to make sense of his shoes. Those were even stranger.

"Maybe I should rethink having you as an assistant," said Merrythought. "I could use someone with Defense abilities."

But, Harry wasn't paying attention to her at all. Instead, his eyes were set on Albus's friend. "Elphias," Harry said. He jumped, surprised.

"Yes. How do you know?"

Albus didn't waste a moment. "Should I explain?" Albus asked Merrythought.

Merrythought nodded, taking her place behind her desk again. Dumbledore sat down comfortably on the couch again and allowed Elphias to sit next to him.

Then, the story began.

* * *

"Harry is a time-traveler," Dumbledore said.

Immediately Elphias's expression turned shocked. Harry was reminded of Bill Weasley's wedding, when Ron's Aunt Muriel started rattling off about Dumbledore. Elphias had been highly offended, stuttering that none of it was true. Even though what Dumbledore was saying then was true, Harry could still see the trace of the old man he'd seen of Elphias in his time.

"How long?" Elphias asked, examining him. Harry didn't get the impression that he was x-raying him, like he often got with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled. "One hundred years."

"Ah," he still was shocked and Harry couldn't blame him. "Do we know each other?"

Harry nodded. "Not well. I'd only met you a couple time before-" Harry cleared his throat, realizing he was about to say something about Dumbledore's future. He died, Harry finished in his head, looking down at the carpet. "Sorry."

There was a moment of silence where the three others watched Harry. He refused to look up, only because he knew that if Dumbledore caught sight of his eyes, he might read his mind again. He couldn't give away any information.

"In any case," Dumbledore continued. "Harry Potter is an Auror who fell into a batch of time-turners in the Department of Mysteries when he was chasing a break-in.

"The problem with this is that he knows too much about my future," Dumbledore sighed and Harry saw a glimpse of the weariness that would come in the months before he died. "The best thing to do is to get him back as quickly as possible. However, that also presents a problem, as there isn't a way to get him back. I went to the library to try to find anything that would help. I found a book in the restricted section that could have what we need, but it's written in Ancient Runes."

Dumbledore picked up the book he'd brought back from the library, shrugging. The book was large, and it had made Harry cringe when he'd brought it back to the empty office where Harry had stayed while Merrythought went off to teach a class. Dumbledore allowed Harry to flip through the book, but it had nothing he could understand except the occasional illustration. He'd never taken Ancient Runes.

"I've also written a letter to Nicolas Flamel to see if he knows of any way to get him back. Fawkes should be back at any moment," he paused again and flipped the book open on his lap. "In the mean time, Professor Black's said Harry could be Professor Merrythought's assistant. I have to say, you are quite good at dueling," Dumbledore said, glancing up at him, his eyes twinkling.

Just hearing that from Dumbledore caused Harry to smile. It took a moment to realize that this wasn't the Dumbledore he knew. He wasn't experienced enough. His mother and sister were still alive.

He didn't know who Dumbledore was, not really. Remembering the conversation he had with Hermione after they'd read The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, about how he'd been practically practicing the Dark Arts at this age caused Harry to drop his smile and look away. Could Dumbledore already have the same ideas as he did when Grindelwald came?

He didn't have much time to contemplate that because there was a pop along with a cloud of red smoke. Harry heard the musical cry of Fawkes as he landed silently on Dumbledore's knee. Harry couldn't help but smile again as he took in Fawkes' bright red and orange feathers. He was smaller than Harry remembered, obviously only months old.

"Hello, Fawkes," Dumbledore said softly. He ran a hand over the bird's plumage, and then untied the string that was on his leg. "Thank you," he said, unrolling the letter. He read it quickly, his eyes flying across the page. He frowned toward the end and dropped the parchment. Stroking Fawkes wings again, he said, "There's a way to do it through Alchemy, but it would take months to make what we need. He said there are other ways, such as-" he let out a humorless smile, "-wait until your time comes again. He does have a rather odd sense of humor. I assume you'd rather not wait a hundred years?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I have a four month old godson. I have to get back."

Dumbledore nodded, but Harry had a feeling that he wasn't very sympathetic to the situation because he immediately went to the book and started reading. "I'll start researching other ways. I'd rather not resort to Alchemy because it can be dangerous, but if it's the only way, then so be it."

"How would I get back through Alchemy?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked back at the letter. "Through the Elixir of Epoch. It induces a point of time to occur for the drinker, essentially bringing the person to the point in time where they want to be. It only works if the time has already occurred, but in your circumstance, it has occurred. It's been done successfully once in medieval times when Leonardo the Laputan accidentally sent himself back in time when he was inventing the time-turner. The Alchemist Albertus made the Elixir and Leonardo wrote about it. What happened came to the attention of Nicolas after he met an Alchemist who knew Albertus. He waited until Leonardo's time and questioned Leonardo himself about it. It's not very known."

Harry thought about that. "So, I can choose any time I want to go back to? I can go right back to where I'd been before?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'd suggest going to where you were a few minutes beforehand. There'd be two of you for a time, so you wouldn't be able to be seen until the other you disappeared, but if this works, that means there's already a Harry Potter in your time. No one will know that you traveled through time unless you tell them."

"How dangerous could that be?" Harry asked, remembering Dumbledore's words before.

Dumbledore looked up sharply, causing Harry to be slightly taken aback. "Vastly. If the Elixir was made wrongly, you could die. There's also the paradox factor. Just you being here could change the course of events."

Harry swallowed. "I'm prepared to die. I've been before," he said. What he was more worried about was Dumbledore. He knew that he couldn't change him at all. If that happened, too many things could go wrong. As much as he hated it, he'd have to let him meet Grindelwald. He'd have to let Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore die.

"What about your godson?"

Harry became aware that there were two other people in the room, and a phoenix. He was forced to look over at Merrythought.

Harry closed his eyes, thinking about the last time he held Teddy. He'd been heavier and more delicate than he thought a baby would be the first time he held him. After three and half months, though, he began to get used to it. He liked holding the child. "He won't know why I died," Harry said, almost repeating the last words Lupin ever said to him. "But, at least I tried."

And, with that, Dumbledore sighed, asked Merrythought for a quill and parchment and wrote a one lined response for Nicolas Flamel. Fawkes popped out of sight again, and suddenly the room was completely silent. He hadn't realized the phoenix had been singing. A heavy weight seemed to fall in his chest when he realized how calming the bird could be.

"I'll continue looking for other ways," Dumbledore said, standing. Elphias followed. "Nicolas will start preparing the Elixir, if that's the way you'd like to return to your time. Goodnight Professor, Harry."

Dumbledore smiled and left with Elphias, who muttered a short "'Bye." Harry was left with Merrythought who conjured up a blanket and pillow and laid it on the couch for Harry to use.

"I'll make arrangements with Professor Black about your living situation tomorrow. You don't mind sleeping here, do you?"

Harry shook his head. Merrythought smiled and disappeared up a door that Harry hadn't even noticed before. Slowly, he made himself comfortable on the couch and thought about Dumbledore.

What a strange occurrence this was, and in the eyes of Harry Potter, that was saying something.

* * *

_AN: First off, thank you for all your reviews :) They made me very happy and even more excited for this story. Chapter 3 will be up on Friday, August 27. School starts tomorrow, the 25th, so I will be busy with that._

_Second off, the word Laputan. It's from Gulliver's Travels. I wanted a good word that was alliterate to Leonardo and I thought "a neglect of useful occupations and a devotion to visionary projects" would be a good fit for that young wizard._

_And on a third and final note, Aberforth drawing. I'm obviously not illiterate and I've never met someone who was, so I'm not sure how well they would be able to draw. I don't know. I wanted to give him a decent talent. **shrug **Aberforth's going to be a subplot, too. I don't want to leave him out because I like his character in the books._

_Please review, good or bad. :)_


	3. 3: Loopholes

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Loopholes and Birthdays**

A book filled with Ancient Runes rested near the edge of the bed where an auburn haired boy laid, fully clothed and fully asleep. He shifted, causing the book to fall off the side. It hit the floor with a loud smack! and all four boys in the dormitory jerked awake.

"What in the bloody world was that?" Greyson Abbott said irritably.

Albus looked up at him groggily, and then realized that it was his book that had fallen. "Sorry," he said, reaching over the side to pick it up. A sliver of sun fell across the cover. "My book fell."

"Bloody big book," said Thomas Witherson, checking his watch. "It's breakfast time, anyway."

As Greyson and Thomas got out of bed, Albus looked over at Elphias. He was getting ready for the day as well. Slowly, he did the same and once the other two were gone, Elphias said, "Did you find out anything?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's mostly about how time-turners are created and how they work: nothing about reversing the effects."

Elphias shrugged as he ran a comb through his hair. "Might as well do what the Alchemist says."

Albus nodded as he packed his books for his classes. Might as well. Might as well.

Fawkes returning was the only eventful part of breakfast. Everyone in the Great Hall looked up when he came in with a poof of smoke and a letter tried carefully around his leg from Nicolas. Dumbledore read it quickly, nothing that Nicolas would start the Elixir as soon as he got the ingredients together. "'The time to ripen the Elixir will take six months,'" the letter said. "'However, it may take up to four to gather what is needed, since one of the ingredients is only available in the winter months.'"

He knew Harry wouldn't like that one bit. As Albus thought of it, he knew it wouldn't be good for what could happen in the future. He ran a hand through Fawkes feathers before the phoenix spread his wings and flew away. If Harry was there for ten months, that could throw off what was meant to happen in anyone's life Harry came in contact with. Albus shut his eyes, wondering what could be done about that.

Nothing came to him in that moment. He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Aberforth sitting down across from him.

Albus stared at his brother as he filled a plate with toast and cheese. Aberforth had never chose to sit near Albus and he wanted to ask him why he was, but Aberforth hadn't once looked at him. Instead, he buttered his toast and ate the cheese without a word.

Then, Albus remembered something.

"It's your birthday," he said.

Aberforth looked up. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry, I've been caught up in something-"

He shook his head. "I understand. You're always doing something important."

This surprised Albus because he wasn't being as gruff as he normally was. But, Albus thought, maybe he just wanted to have a good day.

Before he had a chance to say anything, though, Aberforth stood, taking his buttered toast with him, and saying, "I have divination. It'll take a while to get up there."

Then, he walked out of the Great Hall with both Albus and Elphias's eyes staring at him.

"That was odd," Albus said.

Elphias shrugged. "He's on odd bloke; even odder than you. I don't know why he said that to you last night, about you being the oddest in the school."

Dumbledore ignored his friend's words. "I forgot to get him a gift," he said. He felt ashamed. How could he forget? Aberforth hadn't forgotten his! "Of course, I don't know what I could get him."

"Get him a book."

Albus shook his head. He'd never seen Aberforth read a book in his life, and he was sure that Aberforth enchanted his quill to record what he said to it for homework assignments.

"Maybe I could get him a sketchbook. The one he's got now is getting low on parchment."

"Brilliant idea. He does like to sketch," Elphias said, standing up. "We should get down to the dungeons."

Albus spent the next Double Potions period half concentrating on his potion and half attempting to think of ways to keep his distance from Harry.

It was obvious from the beginning that Harry had known him during his lifetime. Albus couldn't stop thinking about what he'd seen in a flash from Harry's mind. The bearded, old wizard had to have been him. They had the same eyes, only his eyes were tired and worn, like he'd seen a lot. He knew magical people had an extended life span, but to know he'd still be alive at 117 was immensely exciting to him.

He remembered, too, that Harry had called him 'Professor,' in the beginning. Did that mean he was a Professor? When he thought about it, he could see himself teaching Transfiguration after Garside retired. Garside probably had a couple more decades left of teaching as he was probably in his eighties.

He could imagine himself in that position, maybe even Headmaster at some point. But, he could see himself working in the Ministry, too. He wasn't sure what, maybe developing spells or studying in the Department of Mysteries for a time.

Dumbledore dropped peppermint into his cauldron. It turned an electric blue. Then, he reached for rat spleen, dropped it in, and a loud bang! reverberated through the room.

Everyone around him was plastered in electric blue. He felt himself blush as they turned to glare at him. "Oops."

"Mr. Dumbledore!" Professor Glumage said, making his way over and looking into his cauldron. "Rat spleen, not newt!"

"I'm sorry, I thought that was what I was picking up. I can-"

Without saying another word, he waved his wand and the entire amount of potion that had been scattered about disappeared.

"Be glad it didn't do any damage to anyone," said Professor Glumage angrily. "I'll give you half credit for the potion because it was the right color, but ten points from Gryffindor. You may leave."

He pointed toward the door and Albus gathered his things without a word. Elphias glanced at him. Albus just waved and made his way up to Merrythought's office. He felt a little shaken. He rarely made mistakes like that. Whenever he did make mistakes, it unnerved him. He should have been paying more attention.

He wondered if he could get permission from Merrythought to go down to Hogsmeade to buy Aberforth a new sketchbook. That would distract him.

He knocked on her door, which swung open not even a two seconds later. Merrythought was there; Harry was awake and looking as some kind of old parchment. From where Dumbledore stood, he saw that it had lines, not words drawn on it.

"Hello, Albus," Merrythought said. "You're out of class early."

"My potion blew up," he said.

Harry tried to hide an amused smile. Albus sent a glare at him, and then turned back to Merrythought.

"Professor, it's my brother's birthday." Harry looked up from his parchment again.

"Is it?" Merrythought asked.

Albus nodded. "May I have permission to go to Hogsmeade to get him a gift?"

"Yes, in fact, while you're there, could you stop by Scrivenshaft's and get a bottle of ink for me?" She rummaged around her desk and her hand emerged with a handful of sickles. "I expect change, Dumbledore!" she called out to him as he turned to shut the door.

"Can I go with you?"

Albus stopped abruptly and looked at Harry, slightly surprised that he wanted to go.

"Er, you may," he said against his better judgment. He shouldn't let him come, he shouldn't, but he was, and Harry was strolling next to him down the corridors and staircases, and down the path toward the front gates. Dumbledore caught him looking everywhere, studying everything. He wondered what was going through the boy's mind, the boy who was younger than him, yet older at the same time.

* * *

Harry still couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't believe that he was walking with Dumbledore to Hogsmeade just like the last time he'd seen Dumbledore alive. The only difference, though, was this was morning, not the evening like the time his life was coming to an end. Instead, it was beginning. His regrets that had haunted him in his lifetime hadn't occurred yet.

"Are the grounds different?" Dumbledore asked him.

Harry hadn't even been aware that was looking around. He found himself staring at a cabin sitting by the Forbidden Forest. He wondered who was living there now, if anyone was. He glanced behind him to see if the Whomping Willow was there. It wasn't. It was a clear space of land. Then, he jerked his head to look for Dumbledore's tomb. That wasn't there, either.

Nothing else looked different. It looked like the same old Hogwarts.

"There're a couple changes," he said hesitantly.

"Such as?" Dumbledore asked.

"Er, there's a Whomping Willow there," he pointed toward the side of the castle behind them. "It was put there in the 70's. Donated, I think." He intentionally left out information.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. He stared at the spot for a few seconds, and Harry realized for the first time that he didn't wear glasses yet. He turned forward again as they stepped in front of the gates of the school. Dumbledore tapped the locks with his wand and it sprung open. "Don't tell anyone I know how to open the gates," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry laughed. "I won't."

Dumbledore continued to lead the way down to the village.

"I didn't know students could go to Hogsmeade outside of the weekends," said Harry, realizing that.

"If you're of age and have permission, you're allowed. I'm guessing things were different in your seventh year?"

Harry wasn't sure if he should respond. He shouldn't have said anything. "Yeah, they were," he partially lied. Of course they were, but Dumbledore couldn't know anything.

"Must be the Headmaster. Phineas Black is strict and favors the Dark Arts, but he tries to let a little freedom. I believe he's a little mischievous, myself." He smiled down at Harry.

"Er, yeah, must be the Headmaster," or the war, Harry thought. He realized when he said that that he was most likely insulting Dumbledore. But, then, he forgot that Snape had been the Headmaster during what would have been Harry's seventh year. This left Harry somewhat confused, so he didn't think much into it.

Dumbledore hummed a short tune. Harry thought he'd heard what he was humming before, but he couldn't place it.

"Do you know my brother?" he asked.

"Yeah. I haven't known him for as long as I've known you, but we've spoken a few times before."

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had gone into the Hog's Head a couple times a month. Aberforth was an interesting person to talk to, as long as you got past his gruff exterior. Harry frequently asked him about Dumbledore, only because he wanted to know more about his mentor. Aberforth always said, "Him again?" and let out a gruff sigh, complained for a bit, then finally said: "Fine. What do you want to know?" once Harry managed to convince him.

Dumbledore gave a short nod as they entered the village. This, too, looked much the same. Harry noticed the Three Broomsticks nearby, open and running. A man in black robes stepped out. He nodded at Dumbledore and continued down the street. Dumbledore turned right almost immediately, leading Harry into Tomes and Schrolls, the bookshop.

It wasn't nearly as large as it had been during Harry's time, but it still had books filling the shelves. The proprietor looked up from dusting the shelves. "Ah! Mr. Dumbledore! Anything in particular you're looking for?"

"Yes, a plain book. Anything that someone could draw in."

The proprietor led Dumbledore toward the back of the store. While he did that, Harry picked up a newspaper called Transfiguration Today. It wasn't the title that caught his eye, but the face staring up at him in a small letterhead, indicating who wrote the story. Dumbledore's face smiled up at him, much younger than the last time Harry had seen his face in news print like that.

The title of the article read The Mind of Transfiguration by Albus Dumbledore and was down the left side of the front page. "When my friend Elphias Doge asked me if Transfiguration came more from the mind or from the spell, I said instantly, 'The Spell.' At the time, I did not realize how dreadful it was that I came up to that conclusion so quickly-"

Dumbledore and the proprietor stepped up beside Harry. Dumbledore, with a leather bound book, handed him a Galleon and a few Sickles, and said, "Thank you, and good day."

"Come again, Dumbledore."

He nodded curtly with a small smile. Harry was forced to drop the newspaper, although, for once, he didn't want to.

"How old is your brother today?" he asked him, running to catch up.

"He's fifteen," said Dumbledore. "Why, may I ask?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know. I mean, what year he's in."

"In the fourth, Harry," he said. "I believe I got the better birthday, at the end of the year instead of the beginning. He'd be a fifth year now if he were born a few days earlier. Mine is August 4th," Harry felt a pain in his chest because he hadn't known his birthday. "I'm not entirely sure you knew?"

Harry shook his head, kicking at the dirt road. "I hope I'm not still here to see your eighteenth birthday."

"No, but that could happen. Nicolas wrote back this morning and said it would take about four months to gather the ingredients and six months to prepare the Elixir."

"What?" Harry asked. "Ten months?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's quite impossible to not wait. I haven't found much else. I've read the book-"

"You've finished it?" Harry asked, remembering the thickness of it.

"Yes. It's all about time-turners, but not at all about what we need to get you back. I think Nicolas may be the best way to get you back. Of course, he did explain that you could choose what time you can go back to. Think of it as a vacation."

Dumbledore opened the door of Schrivenshaft's. Harry couldn't see the proprietor, but Dumbledore stopped talking, shifting his attention to the quills. But, Harry, like always it seemed, had more questions for him.

"Why isn't there a way to get back?"

"I don't know that answer, Harry," he said. "But you seem to forget that there is a way."

"I mean any other way. You said yourself that way is dangerous."

Dumbledore gave a shrug, which took Harry aback for a moment before he remembered that he was a teenager. Harry hung back as he picked up an ink well of black ink for Merrythought. The shopkeeper came out of the back as if called by Dumbledore's touch. She took the money Dumbledore handed to her, gave him back a few knuts, and then went into the back. Harry didn't question her quietness; he just followed Dumbledore back up the path to the school.

"Of course," Dumbledore continued on even though a few minutes had passed, "although magic has rules, some more complex than others, there's always room for a loophole."

He smiled down at Harry just as they reached the gates. He tapped the lock with his wand as if the lock were the loophole he was talking about.

"Is this a loophole? The Elixir?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I think so." Dumbledore flipped through the book he'd gotten Aberforth. "Do you think it would be cruel to write a small message when you know your brother is unable to read?"

"Er," Harry said. Honestly, he didn't have an answer for that. He stared at the book for a while, realizing that he'd seen the blue pressed border outlining the edge before. "I think Aberforth keeps that," he said. Dumbledore looked surprised. "I've seen it before. It's falling apart, but I know it's that one." He could see it in his mind sitting next to the old cash register in the Hog's Head. He'd never thought about the book, but to now know Dumbledore gave it to him made him wonder if Aberforth really did care more about Dumbledore than he thought.

Dumbledore hummed happily. "Excellent. I think I will write a small birthday wish. He should be able to know what that says."

They were approaching the castle entrance now. Dumbledore looked up and stared off into the distance. "A Whomping Willow. Why in the name of Merlin would Hogwarts need a Whomping Willow?"

* * *

_AN: This was a fun chapter to write, especially the last line. I love that line. I love Lupin. I wish he could be in this story, but that's not possible. Oh well. Oh, and __I realized when I was editing that I repeated some things from the second chapter, but Harry had some questions he wanted to get straight._

_The chapters are going to start getting longer after this since the plot is starting. The next chapter should be up by Monday, August 30, but that's the last chapter that I have fully written, so there may be a bigger gap in between the chapters after Monday. Just a heads up._

_Please review! I enjoy reviews._


	4. 4: Guilt and Thirst

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

_Although it doesn't relate to this particular chapter much at all, it's something I want to say:_

_This chapter is dedicated to two lovely and strong girls: Esther Earl- August 3, 1994-August 25, 2010 and Natalie Yokeley- November 1, 1995- November 24, 2008. "Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy." ~Author Unknown_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Guilt and Thirst**

Elphias caught up with Albus after his Ancient Runes class before lunch began. Together, as neither of them had class after lunch, they made there way to Gryffindor tower to drop off their book bags.

"Did you get your brother something?" Elphias asked, laying sideways across his bed and staring up at the wooden ceiling.

"Yes," he said, digging through his bag to find it. He took it out and showed it to Elphias. "I know his favorite color is blue. I like purple, myself, especially purple socks."

"At least I know what to get you for Christmas," Elphias said, nodding his approval at Albus's gift. "Socks! Who knew you'd be fond of them."

Albus chuckled, wrote a quick message saying, 'Happy Birthday, Aberforth. With love from your brother, Albus,' and stuck the book in his pocket to give to him during lunch.

"Have you talked to our time-traveler friend?" Elphias asked as Albus put the top back on the inkwell.

He nodded. "He has many questions. I have a feeling we'll be close in his time. I can't imagine way, though. I'm just under a hundred years older than him."

"Well, he seemed to know me, Albus."

With a sigh, Albus fell beside Elphias on his bed.

"He has a curse scar," said Albus. He lifted a hand to his forehead and traced the lightening-bolt shape as if he had the mark as well. "And, while we were in Hogsmeade today, I saw on the back of his hand," he trace the scar on his own, "there were the words 'I must not tell lies.'"

"What does that mean?"

"That is a good question. I can't help but wonder what other sorts of scars he has."

Albus stared at his own hand, clear of any blemishes. There wasn't even a mole marking the surface of his skin. I must not tell lies. Did that mean he hadn't told a lie yet? Did he learn his lesson to whatever punishment that caused those letters to be etched? And the scar on his forehead: Only powerful Dark Magic could have produced such a scar. He'd read about it in his studies with Merrythought and Flamel.

To him, it seemed quite contradictory that someone who couldn't tell lies, who claimed to be an Auror and seemed, in general, to be a good person from what he'd seen so far, would have such a thing as Dark Magic touch him.

"Could we go to lunch? I'm famished," Elphias said.

"You go on. I need to check something in the library."

"Should I bring you anything?"

Albus shook his head and the two left Gryffindor Tower, though Elphias left Albus at the library where he got permission to look through the Restricted Section.

He spent hours researching through the books he found on the shelves. Books such as Curses for the Cursed showed gruesome lithographs of people getting ripped apart without any hope of returning to their original state and went into detail about how curses worked- how they clung to the body of the marked forever.

Albus could feel the knot between his eyes as he read, but with each word forming into a sentence, he felt he was getting nowhere. He felt as if the words weren't helping him figure out what could have happened to Harry. It was like the Time-Turner book he'd read the night before. The books only showed him how things were created and how they worked specifically to creating the scar than what would happen to the person afterward. The books went into detail as if the curse were more like a machine than magic.

Eventually, Albus sent all the books back to the shelves and left the library in defeat. He needed more information about Harry, he realized as he was headed back toward the Tower. He couldn't just go into researching by only knowing that a scar existed on Harry. He had to know whether someone had done that to him or if he had done it to himself before he could effectively find the answer to how curses affected someone.

But, Albus told himself, he had other things to worry about, like getting Harry back to where he belonged.

The fire flickered across the Common Room, illuminating the only person still left inside. Aberforth sat on the maroon couch, his eyes fixed on the fireplace when Albus stepped in.

Albus sat down next to him and stared off into the flames as well. They danced and danced as if celebrating Aberforth's birthday for him.

Albus extracted the book from his robes and held it out after a few minutes. Aberforth looked down at it and slipped it out of Albus's grip. He opened it; his eyes moved across the page. He huffed, but Albus thought he could see a slight glimmer in his eye.

"Did Mum get you anything?"

He nodded and pulled out a watch from his pocket. It looked much like the one she'd gotten Albus for his seventeenth birthday, gold colored with stars lining the edges. "She gave it to me before we left. She said she was sorry that she gave it to me two years too early, but she wanted to make sure I got one from her."

Albus nodded. He knew his father hadn't left much money for them after he'd gone to Azkaban. Their mother didn't work, devoting her full time to Ariana. Albus felt his heart twist. Ariana would have been in third year and his father never would have died if those Muggle boys… but, no, he couldn't think of it.

"Thank you," Aberforth said.

"You're welcome."

"You got this today, didn't you?"

"Yes."

Aberforth turned back to the fire. It was a few minutes before either of the two brothers said anything.

"I miss Mum reading Beedle," said Aberforth, taking a piece of charcoal wrapped in string out of his pocket. He started sketching on the first page, his hand carefully making line after line. Albus, even though he could do a number of other things, wished he could draw. "She always got the voices right, you know?"

Albus nodded, thinking about how she used to read them the stories. Aberforth and him constantly fought over which she would read.

"No!" Albus could remember saying, taking the small book from Kendra Dumbledore's hands and flipping through it until he found the one that read 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' written in Ancient Runes. "This one!"

"But I wanted to hear Grumble!" Aberforth had cried out.

"Shh," Kendra said, shifting the year old Ariana in her arms. Albus could remember looking over his shoulder as his father laughed, the fire in the grate illuminating his face and causing his eyes to twinkle more than usual.

"Oh, Kendra," he said, falling cross-legged to the floor where the four sat. He snatched Aberforth in his arms. "Read them both."

"It's already late," She looked down at Ariana with concern. "Ariana is falling asleep!"

Percival shook his head. "Go on. Read Albus's first."

"But, Grumble-"

"Listen, Ab," Percival said softly, running a hand through his youngest son's hair. As Kendra began reading the Three Brothers, Albus took in every word and could remember it by heart even years later.

"Shall I tell them to you?" Albus asked Aberforth as he drew.

"Only if you've got the book with you."

Albus smiled. "I'll go get it if you're serious."

When Aberforth nodded, Albus jumped up to retrieve it from his trunk. He came back only to see him fast asleep. Rather than wake him, Albus fell on the couch beside him and read the stories until the fire died out and he was asleep as well.

He was in the library again after Charms with piles of books explaining curses. Except this time, it was for a homework assignment.

That morning in Defense, Harry made his first appearance as Merrythought's 'assistant'. Both seemed very serious that day. Merrythought's eyes were much darker than usual, and her lips pressed together tightly. No one talked as they came in to class, sensing the tone of the teacher. Dumbledore and Elphias sat in the desk closest to the front. Dumbledore caught Harry's eye. His lips twitched in a smile, but, he, too, didn't find whatever they were going to talk about funny at all.

The door fell closed. Merrythought surveyed the room. Behind her, Dumbledore noticed three glasses, each with a large spider living inside. "Unforgivable curses," Merrythought said and Dumbledore understood immediately. There was a ruffle in the room. "Since 1717, the Unforgivable curses have been banned by the Ministry of Magic. If anyone performs the curses on another, the consequence is a lifetime stay in Azkaban. This is for good reason. All three carry out some of the worst vices-" she cast a dark look around the room as if daring someone to use them right now- "Pain, power, and murder."

A shudder went through the room; her voice carried disdain.

"Today," she said, gesturing to Harry, "I have an assistant. He will be with us for the rest of the year to help me with classroom duties. His name is Harry Potter and he is well qualified in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now, who can tell me the first Unforgivable?"

Dumbledore raised his hand. He glanced around and noticed no one else had a hand up. Either they were too scared, judging by their faces, or they had no idea what they were.

"Yes, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"The Cruciatus Curse," he said quietly.

Merrythought gave a curt nod. "Yes, the Cruciatus curse," she said. "The pain curse. When cast, a strong one will cause the victim to convulse. He will thrash about, screaming from the pain. If it is cast too many times on one person in a short amount of time, it has the very real possibility of damaging the brain of the victim. Only a sadist would feel any pleasure from seeing another suffer."

She gestured to Harry. He looked up for a second, and then reached over to one of the jars. After he untwisted the cap, he pointed his wand down in the mouth. Dumbledore felt his heart skip a beat as Harry sharply said, "Crucio!" and a red light hit the spider. It gave a squeal, and began to have a short fit. After a short few seconds, it stopped and curled up into a small ball, still twitching.

Harry looked guilty as he pulled his wand out. "It's not a very good feeling to cast it, either," he said, catching Dumbledore's eye. That turned out to be a bad idea, because abruptly Dumbledore was hit with another memory, this time, though, of a woman in hospital robes handing something to a blond, round-faced boy who looked about Aberforth's age. The woman seemed very fragile and older than what Dumbledore thought she to be. But, that memory was just as suddenly gone as it had come. Dumbledore frowned. "The curse didn't last very long."

"Why is that, Mr. Potter?" Merrythought asked.

He looked up at her. "I don't want the spider to hurt. Seems kind of cruel, doesn't it? To give someone pain who doesn't deserve it?"

Merrythought nodded. "Exactly. You didn't want to give the spider pain, so the curse wasn't as strong as it probably could have been if you really meant it. Mr. Dumbledore, how did you come across that curse?"

He wondered if she expected him to say a book, but, no, not at all. Slowly, he shook his head, refusing to answer as a flash of his Dad came into his mind. Those Muggle boys and Ariana. He couldn't say anything.

Merrythought seemed to realize he wasn't going to answer. People knew what happened with his dad. Dumbledore knew it was always in the back of their minds. He had proved himself to be his own person, but it was obvious that they remembered Percival Dumbledore's trial and Azkaban sentence.

"Er, well," Merrythought said, "What's the next curse?"

"Imperius," Dumbledore whispered.

She nodded. "Imperius. That's a bit different than the Cruciatus. Instead of pain, the castor has complete control over the victim. There's a calmness that radiates through your body and a little voice that says a command. Jump. You jump. Run. You run. Break into the Ministry. You break in. Kill him. You kill him." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Some people can throw it off if they have enough discipline and will of the mind. But, that's quite rare. The castor can keep it on you for hours, days, months, or years. You're their puppet. Harry?"

Harry pushed the first jar away and opened the next jar. He did the same as last time by putting his wand in the mouth, though this time he said, "Imperio!" but no jet of light came out of his wand this time. Suddenly the spider began to dance. It jumped around, doing flips off the side of the glass. The class laughed, but, then, suddenly, it stopped. It started walking in circles as if pacing in a prison cell. Then, it stopped completely as Harry let the spell go. It, too, curled into a ball. The class stopped laughing.

"How guilty do you feel now, Harry?"

"Not as," he said softly. "I wasn't making it do anything bad. But I could make it do worse if I wanted to."

Merrythought nodded. "There's a feeling of complete control?"

"Yeah, but it's not right at all. It's like being in control of yourself, but it's foreign because you're in control of another."

"Yes," Merrythought said. "The reason this is Unforgivable is because it's used for power over another person. The Cruciatus and the Imperius curses are two kinds of coercion- physical and psychological. Psychologically, the Imperius curse controls the thoughts of another while the Cruciatus curse physically incapacitates someone. Neither victim under the castor's chosen curse can't control his own movements until it is released. The next one's even worse. What is it?"

Dumbledore knew this one as well, but a Hufflepuff saying, "Avada Kedavra", cut him off. He turned to look at her, surprised.

"That's right, Ms. Diggory."

Dumbledore turned. Harry was eyeing the girl in the back with a wary expression on his face. Dumbledore wondered what that was about.

"Avada Kedava is the killing curse," Merrythought said. "The curse leaves no mark. It's as if the victim's heart has only just stopped beating, even if he was perfectly healthy. No one in history has survived the curse, nor blocked it with magic-" Harry looked away as she said this, "All the victim sees is a green light and he's instantly dead. Mr. Potter?"

Harry pulled the last jar to him. Dumbledore could see from the close proximity that he was shaking. He untwisted the top, put his wand in, but that was it. He didn't say a word.

Everyone watched him hesitate. If Harry had already done the other two Unforgivables, then why was he hesitating on the third?

"Harry?" Merrythought asked.

"I can't do it," he said, pulling his wand away.

Merrythought nodded, her eyes lightening up considerably. "That's okay, Harry. I understand. You see? This is why the Unforgivable's are Unforgivable. Harry clearly shows guilt and reluctance from doing them, even if it's just with a simple spider. To use these on a person would be considerably more harsh and cruel. The killing curse may just be a flash of green light, but it takes away life forever."

There was silence. Dumbledore watched Harry study the spider in the glass. It was starting to spin a web inside the glass. Meticulously, it went around and around as it made it's home inside the glass. Although it was in the glass for now, Dumbledore knew that the home would be destroyed as soon as it was released.

After a round of questions and a homework assignment saying, "Give three examples where the Unforgivable's have been used in history and explain the circumstances and consequences of why they were used," Dumbledore left go to Transfiguaration, Charms, and then the library.

That was where Dumbledore sat, reading over the curses to find examples of where they were used. The assignment sounded more like something Professor Binns would assign, but Dumbledore understood the reasoning behind that. Merrythought wanted them to give a reason why the curses were bad. But what Dumbledore was most interested in was why Harry had refused to kill a spider of all things.

That would take some pondering indeed.

* * *

The week following Harry arriving during Dumbledore's seventh year was less busy than he thought it would be. Merrythought gave him some things to do, such as gather spiders for the Unforgivable curses lesson she taught and crawl around in the dungeons to find a Boggart hiding in the deepest classroom for the third years.

The rest of the time was spent waiting word from Nicolas Flamel or watching Merrythought give lessons. He served almost as her puppet in most cases, which reminded him fiercely of Lockhart doing the same. However, Merrythought was good natured and lived up to her name. She'd smile each time Harry did something well.

"Sorry about all this," she apologized at one point during the week when she and Harry went looking for the Boggart when it escaped. They found it hiding in the Staff Room's wardrobe. "I have to keep up appearances for Professor Black."

At least she wasn't having Harry research. In his mind, that wasn't his thing. He couldn't stand the thought that he could be doing what Hermione loved to do. He liked more practical magic and was quite okay helping her in mock duels like the forth years were doing in class.

The only thing that had made Harry at all uncomfortable was when she was demonstrating the Unforgivables in class. Imperio was the only curse he had ever done effectively before- before he broke into Gringotts. Crucio he hated doing because it reminded him too much of Neville's parents and of Bellatrix Lestrange. Avada Kedavra was the only one he hadn't been able to do.

He couldn't stand the thought of using magic to kill or even to kill at all. He had killed before, but that was necessary, and technically he hadn't really killed him by himself. It was just a backfire of Voldemort's own spell. He couldn't use the spell that had killed his parents and so many others.

But, at any rate, he was glad to have a break from Voldemort and the Death Eater's. All he had been doing for three months since he had joined the Aurors was following leads, capturing Voldemort's followers, and questioning them until they broke. He had blissfully thought Voldemort's reign was over with for good for just a day before he realized his supporters needed to be found and imprisoned for killing and other acts.

That was why he joined the Aurors in the first place, to bring an end to his supporters and support the new Minister. Under Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Ministry was starting to repair itself, slowly, but better than before. Harry knew that this time period didn't have as strong laws that Shacklebolt had recently put into place. Harry hoped to Merlin that he wouldn't change anything by being there. He was attempting to keep a low profile. The only people he had talked to were Merrythought, Dumbledore, and Elphias. He helped with Merrythought's classes, but that was really it. He kept to his rooms located behind a small office down the hall from Merrythought's. There he helped Merrythought research time-travel. Dumbledore had already brought him two updates from Flamel. Flamel, who was working on other projects, needed help.

Harry had to traveled to Diagon Alley to purchase ingredients for the Elixir.

In fact, that was what he was doing on Tuesday morning. Dumbledore had brought him a list from Flamel the night before, requesting that Harry get what was on it. Apparently, if Flamel took his time to make the Elixir for him, Harry would have to work to earn it. At least he didn't have to capture Death Eater's.

Diagon Alley, like Hogsmeade, wasn't much different than in the future. The only difference was that it was absolutely thriving. Witches and wizards were everywhere: talking to friends, stopping to window shop or pick up a trinket on a street vendor's cart, and kids, who were most likely great-grandparents to some of his friends, roamed about, pressing their noses against the glass to Quality Quidditch Supplies to ogle the broomsticks in the window. Harry stopped at the last to look over the kids' shoulders. The model's name was the Oakshaft 79. Harry could remember a mention of it in Quidditch Through the Ages.

Although Harry continued on, he could help but wonder how fast that broom could go.

Two doors down from Quidditch Supplies, Harry found the Apothecary. Harry entered. There were a few witches down the aisle ways. He looked down at the list in Dumbledore's same old loopy handwriting. Harry found comfort in how ordinary that was.

Harry searched for each ingredient. Some were in view, but others he had to crouch down to find. Those had thick, grey layers of dust over the glass and tucked in the back of the shelves. Harry wasn't sure what most of them were used for regularly, and he didn't really want to know, let alone keep it in mind that he would eventually have to drink the ingredients in ten months.

Harry paid for them, and then went back out into Diagon Alley.

He liked the fact that when he walked out, no one paid attention to him at all. He was able to walk toward The Leaky Cauldron without any interference.

He knocked on Merrythought's office door five minutes later. The door opened by itself like always.

"Hello, Harry," Merrythought said. "What can I do for you?"

"Er, do you know where Dumbledore is?"

"He's in Potions, I believe," she said. "Why? Do you have something for him?"

Harry lifted his bookbag he'd brought to Diagon Alley. "I have ingredients for Nicolas Flamel."

She checked her hanging clock above her overflowing bookshelf. It read ten thirty. "He'll be done in thirty minutes. Care to explain what you've got for Flamel?"

Harry sat on her couch and opened the bag clinking with vials. "Dumbledore gave me a list last night." He picked closet one. "Murtlap tentacles," he said, holding it up. "I'm not exactly sure what that's for. The rest are runespoor eggs, dragon egg shell, and aconite."

Merrythought shook her head as she dipped her quill in the ink well. Harry guessed she'd seen the look on his face, which was pure dislike. "Not to worry, Harry. I wouldn't doubt that Flamel's the greatest Potions master alive."

"Dumbledore's taking an apprenticeship with him, isn't he? I always thought his best subject was Transfiguration."

"Oh, yes, he's brilliant in Transfiguration," she said with a curt nod and smile. "Very much so. He writes editorials for Transfiguration Today. But, he's very interested in Alchemy. There's more to it than potion making. It's a very philosophical branch of magic. Albus believes he can achieve ultimate wisdom." She sighed as if she disapproved of it. Maybe she did.

Harry leaned in closer. He'd wanted to learn more about Dumbledore since Rita Skeeter published that book of hers. But, he wanted to learn from someone who actually knew him rather than a tabloid writer with her nasty green quill and thirst for gossip.

"Was that why Flamel apprenticed him? How did they meet?"

Merrythought gave a small smile. "Dumbledore has a thirst for knowledge. He wants to prove himself in every subject and get to know everyone. He's very sociable, Dumbledore. It's stunning how he deals with people. In fact, when I got to know Flamel a few years ago, I was working as an Unspeakable for the Ministry, and Flamel offered his input for the time division. I can't tell you want division I worked in, but Flamel noticed a mistake I made. I began working with him some and when I noticed Dumbledore's talent, I introduced them.

"Dumbledore began asking about Alchemy immediately. It was like he was sucked into Flamel's words. Flamel loved the attention. He doesn't get out much, you see. Not many people know he's still alive. I had no idea Dumbledore knew so much about Alchemy. Flamel was very impressed and they began exchanging letters. At the end of last year, he asked if Dumbledore would like to apprentice with him. Flamel hasn't had one in three hundred years. Can you believe that?"

Harry shook his head. That was a very long time.

She continued on. "He gave him Fawkes that first day. But what Flamel's teaching him is philosophy and fire magic. Transfiguration comes in with the fire magic a bit. Even I don't exactly understand it all. Dumbledore's the most gifted wizard I've ever met in my life."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that because he couldn't quite believe it. He knew Dumbledore had partnered with Flamel, but he never knew the extent. He was sure there was even more to it than that.

She stopped talking and instead began to write comments on what looked to be someone's essay. Harry stuck the vials back into his back. He'd give them to Dumbledore later.

"Frankly, he's a bit over his head," Merrythought said breaking Harry's train of thought. "It's astonishing how much he knows, but what's even more is the mistakes he makes. He doesn't realize it, either. Flamel's trying to get him to see, but something is blocking that. Someday someone's going to get hurt because of his wild ideas and plans."

Harry couldn't tell her how right she was. It unnerved him that she already knew this when it had taken Dumbledore's brother telling him that sometimes Dumbledore's ideas were difficult.

"Not to worry, Harry. This idea of getting you back is Flamel's."

Harry hoped that meant something good.

* * *

_AN: Harry's bit was difficult to write this time. I don't really know why. Sorry if some of it's confusing._

_I know that the Unforgivable's are pretty much a repeat from the last four books, but there's a reason! The way Moody/Crouch teaches it is less about the emotions than Merrythought's. I think of Merrythought as an emotional character. She's very into morals._

___I have no idea when the next chapter will be up. But very soon, most likely by Monday, September 6th. I'm almost done with it. School's work is going to make the chapters take longer. I'm very sorry about that. _

_But, that's about it. Please review if you'd like._


	5. 5: Doubts

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Doubts**

"Have you gotten the potion items, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him after he knocked on his door and was let in.

It was after Potions and Dumbledore had just went by Merrythought's office with Fawkes perched on his shoulder, but she said Harry was in his rooms. He made his way there, knocked on his door, and entered to see Harry sitting on a red chair with a large piece of parchment in his hand. That parchment was the same as the one Dumbledore had seen him have out days before in Merrythought's office, right as they were about to go down to Hogsmeade.

"Yeah," he said, standing from a chair.

As Harry went through a book bag lying on his desk and pulled out each potion vials, Dumbledore glanced at the parchment sitting haphazardly on the chair. It was blank. He had sworn last week that something had been written on it.

"Dumbledore," Harry said. Albus glanced up and smiled.

"Thank you, Harry," he said. He took a mokeskin pouch out from his robe pocket and carefully stuck the vials in and tied them to Fawkes leg. In an instant, the bird's weight had lifted off Dumbledore's shoulder and he was gone.

Harry folded the parchment and exposed his own mokeskin pouch around his neck. Dumbledore had borrowed his from Flamel, which only opened because Dumbledore had permission from him to use it. To see Harry own one was surprising to Dumbledore. They were very expensive. Dumbledore didn't think he'd ever be able to buy one himself.

But, just as quickly as Harry had brought it out, he hid it again. Just like how fast Fawkes was gone.

"How has your week been?" Dumbledore asked. "The classes?"

"They've been going well," he said as he sat. Dumbledore waited for an invitation, but when he didn't get any, he crossed his arms behind his back. "I had a defense club in my fifth year when we had this awful teacher. My friend Hermione asked me to teach it. I like what Professor Merrythought's doing, though."

"Yes, it looks like you've had experience. I particularly liked what you did with the Unforgivables. The last was very noble of you."

Harry shrugged. "I can't kill. It's not fair, is it? Oh, I'm sorry, have a seat." He gestured to an identical chair across from his and he took it.

"Thank you. Have you had to use Unforgivables before while you were an Auror?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately," Harry said, although Dumbledore got the feeling Harry was lying somehow. He just didn't know how. "I've used Imperio once before. But it was only because I had to as a last resort. I've only used Crucio twice. The first time, it didn't even work, and the second time, it just made person to pass out. I'd never use Avada Kedavra."

Albus considered him, his fingers slipping together. "Were they absolutely necessary?"

Harry looked up, but then away with weariness. "If your future self knew about it, than you'd probably be disappointed. But, yeah, all were necessary."

"I don't know my counterpart. Although, I would rather like to think I haven't changed much, I believe that if that's all you could think of to do, then maybe it would have been best to rethink that. I, myself, hope to never have the circumstances to cast the curses. I know of Dark magic, but I would never use it against someone."

Harry nodded, but averted his eyes in a way that told Dumbledore he didn't believe what Albus was saying. Did something happen to cause Albus to do Dark magic? No. But what if it happened?

"I can't stand Dark magic, either," Harry said. "It's just, the future- I can't say anything about it, but it's not at all like it is right now, especially in Hogwarts."

"That's quite alright, Harry. There's no need to say more."

Harry let out what Dumbledore thought was a sigh of relief. Dumbledore smiled.

"You said you were related to the Peverell's?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the change. He wondered what he knew, but Harry hadn't looked him in the eye once. "Er, yeah, I am," said Harry. "But, really, aren't a lot of wizards and wizards? I mean, the Blacks have these lines. There are cousins of cousins. The Peverell's were pure-blood. I'm a Potter. I'm related by all sorts of marriages."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. But you do know of the Peverell's, what they did?"

"Of course."

Harry stopped after that. Dumbledore frowned slightly. A long minute passed. Dumbledore started to hum, and was finally interrupted by Fawkes popping back on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore reached up to untie the letter on Fawkes' outstretched leg. Dumbledore read it quickly. "He says thank you for your time in fetching the potions. Those are needed in the first phase of the potion. I'll bring you any updates if he sends any." He stood. "Thank you again." He nodded and disappeared with Fawkes out of Harry's office.

In his dormitory, only Elphias was there with his quill and parchment out. "Did you get everything?" He asked as Albus shut the door.

"Yes," he said with a smile. "He got exactly what Nicolas needed."

"Did he say anything else? Or did you just get them from him?"

Albus shook his head as he took his potions book from his school bag and opened it up to start on an essay Professor Glumage assigned. "We talked a bit about his past experience with Unforgivables. Amazing, really-" and he told Elphias about what Harry told him. He intentionally left out the part about the Peverell's before he ended with: "I could tell he was getting uncomfortable so I left when Fawkes came back. He didn't want to say too much about the future. For that, I don't blame him."

"Me, either," Elphias said, shaking his head in disbelief. "He really cast the Unforgivable's three times before?"

Albus nodded. "I got the feeling he wasn't being entirely truthful when I asked him if he did them as an Auror. Either he really did cast them as an Auror, or he cast them before he was."

"What? You think he's Dark?"

Albus waved that off with his quill. "I just can't imagine the circumstances of why he would need them before. Why would he have to control someone and why did he need someone to hurt, twice? I'm also still very concerned about what kind of event happened that would give him that scar."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I don't think he would be very truthful with that either."

Albus paused and thought hard. How could he get Harry to talk? He knew that would be wrong, but he wanted to know. Harry seemed to know plenty about him, shouldn't he have the right to know something about Harry? Besides the fact that he could afford a Mokeskin pouch or even be good enough at Defense to become a full Auror at 18, there was obviously more to him than that. "Did I tell you he called me 'Professor Dumbledore' when I first saw him?"

Elphias jerked his head up as if surprised. "No. I thought for sure you'd work in the Ministry."

"Me as well," he said with contemplation. He could see himself as a professor, but as he had already had three job offers from the Ministry, he couldn't help but wonder what had drove him away from those offers in the International Confederation of Wizards, Department of Mysteries, or a position as Junior Assistant to Minister of Magic. Those jobs were highly ranked jobs within the Ministry. Why would he give up that to be a professor of all things? Of course, he loved Hogwarts. This was where he found his abilities, but he couldn't imagine any reason why he'd give himself to the school rather than the Ministry.

"Maybe it's best if we don't know," Elphias said. "I was reading up on what the law says about time-travel. Time-travelers could get sentenced to a lifetime in prison if they change anything. Although, I can't imagine how anybody could prove that unless they took their memories."

Albus frowned. "I wonder if this was meant to happen. Do you think everything will be the same after Harry's here? I mean, only you, Nicolas, and Merrythought know he's here from the future other than me. I heard Atticus Potter saying the other day that he had no idea who Harry was. He said he wrote to his parents about that, asking if he was a long lost cousin."

"Did he get a reply?"

"I don't know."

Elphias didn't say anything about that. "We all could get arrested, too, if the Ministry knew we were aiding him," he said. Dumbledore sighed with weariness. "They would wonder why we didn't hand him in. Really, why didn't you hand him into the Ministry? Why did you take him to Merrythought?"

"I knew he would end up in prison if we did that," he said. "He was involved in an accident. He didn't voluntarily do this."

"What if he did, Albus? What if he wanted to change something?"

Dumbledore shook his head, but even second after, he wondered. What if Harry needed to change something? What if this was intentional? But, no, Harry wasn't an Occlumens. He wasn't at all good at lying. Albus doubted he had lied much.

"What would he change, though? Is something that happened a hundred years ago in his time really worth coming back for?"

Neither Elphias nor Albus could answer that. "Although I shouldn't know anything about him," Albus said, dipping his quill into his ink bottle. "I intend to find out."

* * *

Harry watched the door fall closed behind Dumbledore's back. He leaned back in his chair with weariness because of the fact that Dumbledore was asking about the Peverell's. He should have never said anything about that when he first saw him again. That wasn't the worst of it either:

Merrythought had sent him to take a vial of Mandrake leaves to a certain third year Slytherin named Horace Slughorn the day before.

"Why am I giving this to him?" Harry asked her, holding it up to his eyes in an attempt to stop a reaction to Slughorn's name.

"I confiscated it from him last Friday," she had said. "I finally got him to tell me what potion he was making with it. All it ended up was a tonic to relieve an eye infection he has." She waved it off with a smile.

Once Harry was out in the corridor, he checked to make sure no one was around, then, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper from his mokeskin pouch. The Marauder's Map was one thing he was glad he had had with him when he fell into the new time-turners. Harry said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and lines began forming on the page, twisting and turning until the plan of Hogwarts was formed completely.

Harry liked to constantly study the map. It was a habit he formed when he was running from Voldemort and the Ministry. He always watched Ginny's dot move around on the map.

Now that Ginny wasn't at Hogwarts, or even existed yet, he merely watched the dots. Each time a familiar name like Black or Potter or even Scrimgeour came up, he felt his heart skip a beat. It was nice to see familiar names in a place that was so different.

But, quickly, Harry checked to see where Slughorn was and found his name in one of the potions classrooms, all by himself. Harry went off to find him.

There was a large boy standing stirring the contents inside of a streaming cauldron when Harry entered the classroom. Harry waited carefully by the door until his stirring stopped.

"Er, Horace Slughorn?" Harry asked.

The boy turned and Harry could see a shadow of his much older counterpart in his round face.

"Hello," he said, his voice young, but deep at the same time.

"I was asked to give this to you," Harry said, holding the vial filled with Mandrake leaves up.

"Oho! Yes, thank you," he said with a large smile as he came to fetch it from Harry. Harry was over a head taller than him, but Harry could remember that Slughorn stood just above his head later. "Did Professor Merrythought finally see reason or did Professor Glumage persuade her?"

"Dunno," Harry said. "She just said to give it back to you and that you were using it for an eye infection?"

Horace waved that off as he shuffled back to the cauldron. "I've never seen you before. What's your name?"

"Harry Potter," he said.

"Oh, Merrythought's new assistant, right? I've heard of you. You wouldn't happen to be related to Atticus Potter, would you? His father is quite powerful at the Ministry. He's in one of the top Wizengamot members."

Harry was surprised at that. "Is he?"

"He is," he smiled as he slipped the vial Harry had just given him into a kit next to his cauldron. "He's about five seats away from being head of the Wizengamot, but I doubt he will be."

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked. "Didn't you jut say he's one of the most powerful members?"

"Well, he is," his face cheeks turned a little red and Harry wondered if he knew much about the Wizengamot. Harry, himself, didn't know all that much, but he was learning after being in the Ministry for three months. Harry doubted that would be the same in Dumbledore's seventh year, though. "I've heard you've been talking to Albus Dumbledore?"

Harry nodded. "I have been, why?"

Slughorn started to chop some ingredient on the table. "He's going to do great things. He's already had over a hand full of job offers with the Ministry. You wouldn't believe the awards to his name. How did you meet him?"

"I've known him for a long time," Harry said. "We're only a year apart."

"Has he talked to you about the greater good yet?"

Harry, taken aback, shook his head. "Why? What has he told you?"

"It's a good idea," Slughorn said. "But not at all possible. We met in the library at one point. He was reading this massive book, this big-" he held his hands out about five inches apart. "He said it was a book about this idea that if something produces happiness for a majority- I mean, more along the lines of self-interest- then it should be followed by all. He said I was too young to understand."

Stunned, Harry didn't really know what to say. This Slughorn was a little more outspoken. Harry wondered if it was because he hadn't said anything that he regretted like he had with Voldemort about the Horcruxes. He probably hadn't learned his lesson yet, like Dumbledore hadn't learned that death was inevitable. "Are you sure that's what he said?"

"Not exactly," he said. "That's all I've talked to him about. I was just interested in what he was reading." He paused and pushed the ingredients he was chopping into the cauldron. "I would really like to stay and chat, but this potion is about to settle."

Harry nodded and with that, backed away out the door and made his way back to Merrythought's office to tell her he'd delivered the leaves to Slughorn.

Harry thought about what Slughorn said the rest of the day, but eventually forgot about it until he talked to Dumbledore about the Peverell's. Merrythought was right, Dumbledore needed to be more careful. He was beginning to get in over his head. Harry could tell. He was asking too many questions and thinking too many things at once. He just never let on to anyone what he was thinking and that worried Harry.

Merrythought had said exactly what needed to be said to Dumbledore, not to Harry. Someday someone would get hurt, and the one who would get hurt would be his own self, but what was even worse was that his sister would be the one that got killed.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to wait until the end of the year, but he very well might have to. There wasn't much he could do, except wait until Kendra died.

But what if Harry could stop her from dying?

That would change too much. But, he questioned his determination he had when he first got into the past to just let things go as they originally planned.

There was no prophecy that said he had to do this. Dumbeldore hadn't set a plan for him like he had done with the Horcruxes. In a way, this was like his pursuit of the Deathly Hallows. He shouldn't have searched for them. That wasn't what Dumbledore's plan was, but it had been tempting.

As always, Harry's desire to save people was too much. He wished Hermione were there to tell him it was a very bad idea to get involved. But he couldn't let Kendra or Ariana Dumbledore die.

Harry stood and paced for a bit. Eventually, he shook his head and went onto Merrythought's office, but he wasn't sure what he would say to her.

"So," she said after Harry sat by her on the couch. "I just read the essays the seventh years did and I was thinking about talking about what they wrote, mostly because they all wrote about the same instances." She shook her head. "The library has so many more documentation about the Unforgivables.

"The only ones that really got into deeper ones were Dumbledore and Doge. I can understand Doge because he's very good at laws, but Dumbledore… I don't know where he got his information. There was one theory he wrote where if an evil curse touches someone, it leaves a mark. I've heard of inside with the mind, such as an over done Crucio. I've never heard of that before."

Harry's heart skipped. Did Dumbledore already figure it all out already? Harry hadn't even said anything to him about himself, except that he was an Auror and a descendent of the Peverell's. If Dumbledore did figure it out, that was not good. Not good at all.

Harry kept quiet as she went over the plan for that class. It wasn't really anything Harry needed to help with. He listened half-heartedly while he thought about Dumbledore.

Dumbledore really didn't need to know about his future, but it would be too cruel to say, "Oh, by the way, your mother dies and your sister dies next summer. Don't mess anything up." Even subtle hinting would probably be bad. Harry really didn't know what to do.

He still wasn't sure if he should say anything at all.

"Dumbledore's going to see Flamel this weekend," Merrythought said, causing Harry to turn to look at her. "I was hoping you'd go meet Flamel with him since he is working on a potion for you."

Harry only nodded and with that, tried to figure out what he should do. He really missed Hermione.

* * *

A day later, Albus was sitting near the hearth of the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was late in the night and Elphias was with him again.

"Could you hand me that small screw-driver, Elphias?" Dumbledore asked. He would have gotten it himself, but it had rolled when he sat it down five minutes before.

"Will this device really be able to capture light when you're done?" Elphias asked, holding the driver out to him.

"I, er, hope so," he said. This project was given to him by Flamel who wanted Dumbledore to find a way to do so. He knew Dumbledore was quite mechanical, having been taught by his father when he was younger, so with the fire knowledge he'd taught him, Dumbledore was now supposed to hold fire within a device by compressing the matter and trying to contain it with minimal magic. Mostly, at the moment, the device was only a mishmash of metal and screws. "Flamel wants to see what I've done so far on Saturday when I visit his shop. I was thinking of bringing Harry. Do you think that's a good idea?"

Elphias shrugged and leaned back against the edge of the maroon couch. "It could be a good thing. Maybe Harry could ask about what's going on? He seems to have a lot of questions."

"Yes, he does," Dumbledore said slowly as she screwed in another screw into a rounded piece of metal. He flicked the dial, but it merely clicked and did nothing. Dumbledore wondered about Harry as he flicked the device over and over again, trying to figure out what else was needed. He'd drawn out a plan, but he hadn't been certain that it would work. Harry needed to know what Flamel was doing. It was only fair. "I'll bring him."

Elphias nodded and, with that, Dumbledore continued to click the device.

* * *

_AN: I hope Harry's section wasn't too weird. He's actually very difficult to write. And the greater good thing. I had to scrounge around Wikipedia for what it really meant. I can't really understand politics very much._

_I think the next chapter will be longer and it should be up very soon because I actually know what I'm going to write! This felt more like a transition chapter of the character's ideas than anything else._

_Anyway, I hope you all are having a good day on whichever day you're reading this. :)_


	6. 6: The Wand

_Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter._

_

* * *

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**Chapter 6: The Wand**

Harry stood on the front steps of the castle early on Friday morning. Really, the only reason he had come down was because boredom drove him. He missed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Being away from them reminded him of staying at the Dursley's. He hardly talked to anyone outside of classes with Merrythought and he missed spending time at the Burrow where he'd been staying since the war ended, although sometimes he stayed with Andromeda when she needed more help with Teddy.

Teddy was growing up fast. Harry missed him, too. He was a very quiet baby who liked to study what was given to him. In that way, he was a lot like Remus and even looked like him. His hair always changed color, though, and he was starting to laugh a lot, which reminded Harry more of Tonks. He got a healthy dose of both of them.

Ginny came with Harry a lot to see him. In June, they began their relationship again after an awkward month at the Burrow. He couldn't look at Ginny without wanting to be with her. Ron surprised Harry when he urged him just to get back with her after Hermione talked to him that Ginny wanted to be back with Harry. So, then, Harry asked her to go to Diagon Alley with him one day.

The great, oak front door of the castle opened. Harry turned to see who came out and was surprised to see a Dumbledore. Not Albus, but Aberforth. Harry only knew this Dumbledore from the Defense classes.

Aberforth stared at him with the same piercing blue eyes as Albus, which caused Harry to look away. Aberforth was a little shorter than Albus and had blonde hair like the portrait of Ariana in the Hog's Head. Albus and Aberforth did look remarkably alike, though.

Aberforth passed by Harry and started across the lawn. Harry stared after him, but with a split decision, he caught up with him.

"Dumbledore," Harry said about a meter away from him.

"What?" he gruffed, stopping to look at him again.

Harry slid on the dew-ridden grass and crashed into him. "Sorry," Harry said as he straightened up.

Aberforth huffed. "Why would Albus waste his time with you? Can't even walk properly."

He started walking again, but Harry didn't give up. Harry knew how Aberforth was. Even though he was gruff at first, he would begin talking eventually. Harry noticed he was carrying the book Albus had given him. "Can I talk to you?" Harry asked, rushing to catch up again. Aberforth walked just as fast as Albus, too.

"About what, exactly?" Aberforth asked. Harry could see he was going toward the greenhouses. "Albus could surely answer anything you want. He's the brilliant one in the family, you see."

"He could," Harry said practically running. "But you're more truthful than he is."

Aberforth looked down at him with a slight glare. "That's obvious. Thank Merlin you see that. Are we done now? I really must-"

"Do you know what he's doing?" Harry asked.

Aberforth stopped again, but his time Harry didn't run into him, which he was glad for. "Of course I know what he's doing. I've seen his papers."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that.

His eyes narrowed again, but his cheeks turned a little red and he started on again. "I can read in a way," Aberforth said quietly, reading Harry's expression. "What's all this to you, anyway? What school did you go to? You can't be much older than Albus."

Harry didn't answer immediately. Aberforth couldn't know he was from the future or that would ruin everything. "I'm eighteen and I was home-schooled." Harry thought about saying he had gone to Durmstrang, but he remembered Grindelwald had gone there. That wouldn't work at all. Harry knew he had a strong British accent and he didn't think Aberforth would believe him if he said he went to a foreign school when he was eleven. He could have lost some of his accent by the time he was eighteen.

Aberforth huffed again just as they got to the greenhouses. He opened up the door to Greenhouse three and went all the way to the back. He sat down at one of the tables and dropped the book on the table.

"Albus is strange and mad," Aberforth said. "Do yourself a favor and don't get mixed up in his schemes."

"I know," Harry said, annoyed. "Merrythought and Horace Slughorn have already said that. But, you know him better than any of us."

"Exactly. That's why I'm saying this. He might be a good person to be friendly with, but not a good person to become his puppet later on when he becomes Minister of Magic. I know for a fact he's taking the Junior Assistant to the Minister job. Spavin loves Albus."

"I doubt it," Harry said.

"I don't," he said. "I know what he's thinking aren't his full ideas yet, but they could become all he wants for the Wizarding World later on. He believes in equality now, but that doesn't mean that he'll believe that later. He's been reading books about Muggle politics lately. He's going on a trip next summer. I bet he's going to see what types of governments other countries have in their Wizard Ministries. Or do you agree with Albus? Is that it?"

"You don't know what I think about politics," Harry said, sitting on the stool behind him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Politics are corrupt and there's inequality because pure-bloods think they're better than everyone else even when half-blood and Muggle-borns can be just as powerful. Equality is better. What about you?"

"No body can be equal," he said. "There's always going to be someone above you, controlling you. What you say and what you do will always be monitored and criticized because they'll be someone smarter and more powerful than you are. Even my genius brother will be overpowered at some point because it's inevitable."

There was a long pause. Harry stared at Aberforth in surprise. He had no idea that's what Aberforth thought, unless his ideas changed in a hundred years, although his personality certainly hadn't. "That's optimistic," Harry said sarcastically.

"It's neither pessimistic, nor optimistic. It's true. Now, will you leave? I must weed my project before class."

Not wanting to make Aberforth more irritated, Harry walked back up to the castle. At least he gave more information about what Dumbledore was thinking. At least he wasn't thinking that wizards were over Muggles yet. He was just reading up on the politics. Maybe there was still hope.

As Harry made his way to the Defense class, he went back to thinking about Ginny. The day he went to Diagon Alley had been a good day. They had flooed into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes because Ginny still hadn't been old enough to get her Apparation license yet.

Diagon Alley had still been in the rebuilding process even a month afterward Voldemort was gone. Lots of shops were still closed down and empty, but a majority of them still had the original proprietors. Harry and Ginny wandered around most of the time they were there after going to Fortescue's to get ice cream. He was glad that most people left him alone while they were there, although he got a few stares and a few 'Thank yous', no one really stopped to chat.

When they passed by Ollivander's, Harry stopped.

"Should we go in?" Harry asked, staring up at the peeling gold paint on the sign.

"Neither of us need a wand," Ginny said.

Harry shrugged and went up to the door, but it merely twisted and didn't open. "I guess he's not in."

Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's look at the Menagerie. You might need a new owl."

"I don't want a new owl," Harry said lowly as they walked on.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, if people could see how much of a baby the Destroyer of Voldemort is. 'I don't want a new owl. I want my old one!' Honestly." She smiled at him playfully.

Harry had a hard time not laughing and when she pulled him into the Menagerie, it didn't take long for him to find an owlet the same size as Pig. Ginny immediately called her Greta, but Harry shook his head. "No way am I naming her Greta."

"Fine," Ginny said. "Then what?"

"Ariana."

And with understanding, Ginny smiled and she kissed him for the first time in almost a year.

Days later when Harry went to the Hogs Head, he sat at the bar and waited for Aberforth to come in from the back. That was when he saw the book Dumbledore gave him for his birthday the first time, although he hadn't known that at the time.

"Good Merlin, boy," Aberforth said, stopping at the doorway. "What do you want?"

"Firewhiskey?" Harry said, even though he knew that wasn't what Aberforth meant.

"You want to get drunk?" he asked with raised eyebrows. He came forward to the bar.

"Yes," Harry said even though there wasn't a reason for it.

Aberforth reached under the counter, and instead gave Harry a butterbeer instead. Harry didn't refuse, though, and put down two sickles. He popped the top off by tapping his wand against it.

"Are you here for a reason?" Aberforth asked.

"I named my new owl after your sister."

Aberforth grunted and shook his head. "Were you drunk when you did?"

Harry wiped the dust off the butterbeer bottle. "I've never been drunk before," Harry said and then took a large gulp of the butterbeer.

"Oh, sweet mother of Merlin," Aberforth said and with that, Harry laughed and said nothing else as he drank his non-alcoholic beverage. He came back to the Hogs Head every week after that and always ordered a firewhiskey even though Aberforth turned and gave him a butterbeer instead.

Harry got up to the Defense classroom just as Merrythought got there.

"Ready for some dueling with the fifth years?" she asked as she pushed open the door.

Harry was glad to say, "Yeah."

* * *

Albus stood in front of the window in his dormitory, which looked out onto the grounds. The morning was clear and bright, but what was different was the fact that he could see Aberforth and Harry all the way from the tower. Harry was practically running to catch up with Albus's brother and it was clear that they were talking. Soon they disappeared into one of the Greenhouses. He stared at it for a long time, wondering what they were talking about.

Harry had told him before that he knew Aberforth. He didn't go into how or where he knew Aberforth from. It seemed odd to Albus that he knew so many older wizards. He didn't really know what to make of that.

Albus made a mental note to ask either Aberforth or Harry about what they were talking about, grabbed his school bag, and made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He wasn't sure how long Aberforth and Harry would talk, so he ate at his normal pace and stood up to go out to the Greenhouses fifteen minutes later.

Aberforth was by himself with a strange, exotic looking plant with large, heavy leaves beside him. He was in the process of pulling weeds from the soil. Dumbledore actually wasn't sure what the plant was.

"What do you have there?" he asked Aberforth.

His brother looked up. "You don't know it?"

"Herbology isn't one of my strong areas," he said, reaching out, but Aberforth slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch it!" he said. Albus could see now that he wore gloves. "It's poisonous."

"Sorry. What happens if you touch it?" Albus asked, studying the leaves and small bumps around the top of the steam. They looked like berries.

"The poison will eat your skin away. If you accidentally eat the berries than they'll cause terrible ulcers that can't be cured so you're left without a stomach, and then the acid will get into your bloodstream and you die in a very short amount of time."

"Just what I want," Albus said.

Aberforth let out a humorless laugh. "I'm sure that's what everyone wants. How did you know I was here, anyway?"

"I saw you and Harry from the dormitory."

Aberforth grunted. "Yeah? Are you spying on me or Potter?"

"Neither. I just saw you. Were you talking about anything interesting?"

He shook his head. "Just politics. He has some interesting ideas. He said politics are corrupt and that all blood races should be equal."

Albus tilted his head to the side with a hum. "Anything else?"

"He said he doubted you'd work for Spavin. I think he's nervous about your political standpoints, at least what you're studying."

Albus didn't exactly understand what he was talking about. There wasn't anything to really be nervous about. He believed everyone should be as equal as possible. It was true that he had looked up politics from other countries, but he didn't exactly believe any of that. He knew of the greater good, that was what he studied the most, but didn't exactly have a real opinion of it yet. He shrugged and turned to walk out. "Good luck with your plant."

"Good luck with your mad endeavors."

Albus shook his head.

Later that day, Dumbledore was on his Head Boy duties when he ran across Harry on the seventh floor corridor. He seemed to have appeared, oddly, out of nowhere.

"Hello," Dumbledore said as he passed by him.

"Er, hi," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What you are doing?"

"Just looking around," Harry said with a glance down the corridor. "I'm just trying to see what's different. I haven't gotten around to doing that."

Dumbledore looked up and down the corridor as well, but didn't see anything different at all. He wondered how different it was in Harry's time. "Tomorrow I'm seeing Flamel. Would you like to come? He'd like to discuss with you what's going on with the potion."

Harry brightened immediately. "Yeah. What time?"

Dumbledore told him ten. "Merrythought's coming along. We'll meet in her office."

Harry nodded and Albus continued on way while Harry went the other.

But as Dumbledore went on, he began thinking. What was Harry doing wandering around the castle? Was he really just looking around?

Dumbledore turned and ran back the way he came toward Harry. When he got past the area he had left Harry, he put a disillusionment charm on himself and a silence charm on his shoes. It wasn't as strong as he'd like it, but he still had time to work on that.

He listened carefully. He could hear footsteps a few corridors over and began following them as fast as he could.

One of the classroom doors was opened, which was not normal. Most unused classrooms were closed. The footsteps had also died away, but Dumbledore peeked around the corner and saw Harry sitting at one of the desks with a piece of parchment out. Dumbledore carefully walked to him.

It wasn't the same parchment Harry usually had out. It was just a normal piece. He held a quill out over it. The only markings were at the very top, "'Dear Ginny,'" it read, "'I miss you,'" but that was it.

Albus wondered who Ginny was. He didn't know any Ginnys at Hogwarts and there wasn't any way that Harry knew anyone outside of Hogwarts.

Harry held the quill over the parchment for a long time. Albus stood still next to him, waiting for him to write more.

When he finally did, Dumbledore read over his shoulder. "'I feel stupid writing this because it's going to be a year before you get to read it. It's just difficult to be away from you, Ron, Hermione, and Teddy. Dumbledore's nice. He's pretty much the same, just younger and less experienced. He's a seventh year, like you. I've missed you since you went back, and now since I've gone into the past, it will be a very long time before I get to talk to you again.'"

Harry stopped. He rubbed his forehead. Dumbledore found it interesting that he didn't rub his forehead randomly, but rubbed his scar. It would have just been a habit to feel the scar, but Dumbledore wasn't sure.

But before Dumbledore could think about that more, Harry continued writing. "I was thinking this morning about when we went on our first date after the year apart-" so Ginny was his girlfriend, Dumbledore concluded, "'I never told you about why I wanted to go into Ollivander's. It's because I still have Dumbledore's wand. I need to get rid of it, but I don't want it to get stolen again. I know the magic will be lost once I die normally, but it has to be hidden. I don't know what to do, honestly.'"

Harry paused again. Dumbledore didn't know what to think about what he had just written.

"'I never thought I'd say this, but I miss going to work everyday. I feel like I should be doing more than what Professor Merrythought's set up for me to do. I need to be an Auror. It feels like last year all over again because all I'm doing is waiting for answers to come. I can already imagine the sort of things Hermione will say once I tell all of you what happened.

"'Right now I don't know what else to say. I guess should go help Merrythought grade essays. She's a lot like Tonks. Anyway, I'll write more letters that I can give to you when I get back. Love, Harry.'"

Then, Harry folded it carefully, placed it in his mokeskin pouch and stood. Dumbledore moved to let him by. Harry twirled the quill in his hand and then he was gone.

Dumbledore sat down in the vacant seat Harry had failed to push in. Why on Earth would Harry have his wand? Why didn't he have it? That seemed so odd. It sounded like Harry had had the wand for months now. Dumbledore wondered if Harry had stolen it himself, but because he seemed to trust him so much and seemed comfortable around him, that couldn't be a possibility.

Albus sighed, shook his head, and went back to his Head Boy duties. That just added to the list of things he needed to find out about Harry.

* * *

Harry got to Merrythought's office right on time. Dumbledore was there, messing with the metal pieces on the desk behind Merrythought's.

"She's not very good at being on time," Dumbledore said as he messed with some mechanical device. "She said she'll be down soon."

There was a short, stiff silence. Dumbledore clicked on the device he was holding, but when nothing happened, he gave an angry sort of sigh that surprised Harry.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"My final project for Flamel," he said, but that was it.

The door to the office opened. Both teenagers turned as Merrythought came in, looking winded as she went over to her fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "Sorry I'm late," she said. She looked between them. "Well, let's go!" And she disappeared.

"That's what happens when she gets overwhelmed," Dumbledore said. "Might as well follow her, right?"

"Yeah, might as well."

Dumbleore let Harry go first, although Harry wished he could apparate instead. He didn't much like the feeling the Floo gave him. But it was quickly over and he stood in a workshop.

It was small, but there were all sorts of tools and mechanical objects on top of large, wooden work tables. Merrythought stood with a man a few steps away. Flamel had a short, white beard, sunken eyes, and was rounder than expected. He hardly looked any older than Dumbledore had in Harry's time.

"Ah, Harry," Merrythought said, gesturing for him to come to them, which ended up being a good idea because Dumbledore came through the fireplace shortly afterward. "Nicolas," she said, "This is Harry Potter."

The man observed him almost cautiously, his large, clear eyes sweeping over him. Without warning, he reached up and touched Harry's scar. "The magic has died, hasn't it?" he asked, his voice grumbling and thick. "You should have died many times."

Harry didn't know what to say because he didn't know how Flamel would know anything about that. Harry nodded and tried not to look at Dumbledore beside him. Flamel's hand lifted off Harry's scar, but a tingle was left. It didn't hurt. No, it just felt like he'd ran a feather over it.

"If the Elixir doesn't work on you, I will be astonished." he said. He turned, walking to a cauldron on one of the table. It was smoking.

"That's not it, is it?" Harry asked.

"No, it's soup."

Harry would have laughed, but couldn't bring himself to. Dumbledore, though, chuckled beside him.

"And you," Flamel said, turning to Dumbledore, who stopped laughing immediately. "You have something for me?"

Dumbledore reached into his robes and took out the device he had been working on when Harry saw him. Flamel brought it up close to his eyes, clicked on it and said, "Minimal effort," and handed it back to him. "You're not even close. We'll talk about that as soon as I explain the process to Mr. Potter."

Flamel turned, limping slightly down one of the worktables while Dumbledore seemed to suppress a sigh. "Miss Galatea," he said, smiling and waving his hand to beacon her forward. "Perenelle is with the most fantastic young lady in the sitting room, if you'd like to join her."

She didn't move toward him. "I'd rather stay, but if you insist," Merrythought said.

Flamel sighed. "You may stay, I suppose. I rather thought you'd like to speak to Bathilda Bagshot-"

"Bathilda Bagshot?" Harry said. He remembered that Dumbledore had told him she was coming to Hogwarts, but to have her near by excited him until he remembered something. Originally he had gone to see her with Hermione in Godric's Hollow to see if she had the sword of Gryffindor. That had been found already and he didn't need any information about Dumbledore anymore. It seemed ridiculous to want to meet her and talk to her now that Voldemort was gone and he had Dumbledore right there with him.

"Yes, Mrs. Bagshot, the historian," Flamel said, nodding. He turned to Merrythought again. "Miss Galatea?"

"I'd love to meet her," she said, genuinely interested.

"Good-"

"But I promised Harry I would help him."

Flamel shook his head and after a short pause where Harry thought he would insist she leave, he said she could stay with a great sigh. "Well, might as well tell you what I've done so far."

And for the next two hours, Flamel explained everything to Dumbledore, Merrythought, and Harry.

* * *

_AN: First: This chapter was incredibly easy for me to write this time. The next chapter should be up by Friday, September 18. That will have a lot more Flamel in it. This is like a tiny little cliffhanger. Kind of. Actually, I wanted to add in all of Flamel's part in this one, but I decided to split it into two parts because I got carried away with Harry, Aberforth, and Dumbledore._

_Second: It came to my attention that Dumbledore had too much leverage with the teachers, especially when it came to Merrythought. I changed a part in the first chapter to make Merrythought more authoritative, but there's no reason to go back to read it because it fits right into the story._

_If you see anything off with characters or story lines or whatever, please tell me so I can fix it (especially if you see Dumbledore being too authoritative with teachers in the first 4 chapters (I'll try to avoid that in the later chapters). That will have to fixed. I overlooked it while editing, but I agree he's too young for that)._

_I'm very open to changing anything if anyone sees a problem. I don't mind and I won't get mad or anything, I promise! Have a great day, everyone!_


	7. 7: Nicolas Flamel

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Nicolas Flamel**

Harry felt as if he'd been in a particularly hard class with McGonagall after Flamel explained everything to him.

The pages of notes Flamel had were extensive, documenting every detail of the last time travel made into the past.

"I acquired most of these notes in 1421," he said, spreading them across a heavy wooden table that came up higher than most tables would. "These were notes given to me by a colleague of Albertus who copied his original notes. Before he died, I met with him. He said he had very important information to give to me about time. He knew that I would be alive for a lot longer than him. He said to take good care of them."

Harry thought he did a good job at taking care of the parchment. The most damage was discoloration, only yellowed, and not a tear on any piece. He wondered if it was possible to do a preservation charm on parchment. "He always asked if I could search for Leonardo to get confirmation on the details. I regret that I wasn't able to talk to him. He had died the year before I finally traced him."

"Was it hard to find people back then?" Dumbledore asked from another bench where he was working on his small invention.

"Very," Flamel said harshly. "There weren't as many records as there are now. Only the Church in the Muggle world and schools like Hogwarts had such documents. Leonardo never went to school. The most schooling he had was given to him by his parents. He meddled too much in time-travel, though, his specialty. He was a genius, but because of lack of necessary technology, he made an error in the process of creating the Time-Turner. It sent him back a hundred years instead of a few minutes. He was gifted in potion-making and made a potion called the Elixir of Epoch to bring him back. Leonardo was able to tell Albertus exactly how he made the potion."

Harry nodded as he explained, though he couldn't help but think about what Flamel said about 'Confirming.' I hope he didn't mean that he wasn't sure if this really happened or not.

"You know this will work?" Merrythought asked before he got the chance to.

"It will," Flamel said. "I've read this multiple times over the years. I've made my own notes. Of course it will work, Miss Galatea."

"If Harry dies because of this, Nicolas," she warned, glancing at Harry.

Harry looked away. The words on the parchment were in some type of English, but nothing he was able to read incredibly well. He just had to have his trust in Flamel. "Like I said before, I've been prepared to die. If it works, it works; if it doesn't, at least I tried."

Flamel studied him for a second too long. Harry avoided his eyes, choosing to look at his small nose instead. He didn't know if he knew how to read minds, but he needed to be as cautious as possible.

"Mr. Potter," he said, "I assure you I will not make a mistake."

Harry didn't trust many people, but because he taught Dumbledore so closely and Dumbledore knew him until the day he died, he knew there was no possible way he couldn't trust the very old man.

Flamel had made an impossible circumstance to occur, anyway. He caused lead to turn into gold! He had achieved immortal life, and even though Harry didn't believe in the need to live forever, he knew Flamel could defy time. He could get Harry back to his time. "I trust you," Harry said. He never felt any distrust.

Flamel nodded stiffly, never smiling nor showing any other emotion than seriousness. He went through all the steps in making the potion in very close detail, showing almost every line on the parchment over the next hour. He hadn't started on it yet as he was still collecting ingredients. "But, once I'm done," he said, "I will call you here and give it to you. It should be August and I am sorry that it will take so long. All you need to do is drink it and think of an exact spot and time you want to appear. It's very much like apparition, but with the added time component. Leonardo described it as such."

"However, I will still need one last thing, Mr. Potter, before I had you the potion," he said. "But it will have to wait until you receive the it."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Your hair."

That caused Harry to think of Polyjuice Potion. He could still remember the horrible taste. "Of course," he said.

"Thank you. You need not give it to me now. That is the last ingredient and will allow you to travel to your time. However, now, there are more important matters to discuss."

He collected the parchment up into a neat pile on the table. "The Ministry," he said. "They're very strict on these type of matters. Black has been suspicious of you. He hasn't reported anything to the Ministry yet. He isn't one to involve the Ministry unless he believes someone is involving himself deeply into the Dark Arts. He may have a family that supports pure-bloods and hates Muggle-borns, but he's hypocritical. He hates people who get involved in the Dark Arts and he's damn suspicious of people, particularly young people. It's a wonder how he ever became Headmaster."

Harry listened carefully. He knew Phineas, the portrait, and he'd met the Headmaster, but he felt he needed to listen unless he wanted to stay in that time for the next hundred years. He wanted to get back home.

"We need to be watchful of the Ministry," he said. "If they find out about you, you'll be killed. They don't want to risk anything that involves time-travel. That's why I've made you birth documents. Every fifty years or so, I have to do these under the supervision of the Ministry, but for your sake, I did these and had Galatea seek them into the Ministry. They now have a record of your existence in case anyone else gets suspicious of Harry Potter. Once you're gone, I'll make a death certificate for you because many people will still have memory of you. It would be impossible to wipe everyone's memory of you."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore with panic. Dumbledore never mentioned that Harry had come into the past. Did he know anything about Harry?

Flamel followed his gaze and nodded. Thankfully, Dumbledore's back was turned. "I'll talk to you about that later," he said carefully as if reading him. "For right now, you have to very careful not to give any information away about the future. You have to keep going about your day like you have been, as merely Miss Galatea's assistant."

Harry felt a gnawing sensation spread threw his chest. It was much like the feeling he got around Ginny, but it physically hurt him. He thought about how bored he was at Hogwarts. There were days that he felt incredibly alone, so much so that he felt as if he was trapped at the Dursley's again. The hurt was twice than usual because he didn't understand how he could feel like he did at Hogwarts of all places. He was always happy to go to Hogwarts, but now it had so many memories of death and now of lonliness. He wanted his job as an Auror back. He needed to go back to his normal life. Not fighting made him feel so worthless.

"You don't like that, do you, boy?" he asked, for once looking sympathetic.

"Er-"

"Would you like to travel a bit?" he asked. "There are still a few ingredients I need, and some will only be mature at certain times over the course of the next few months. Some can only be found in certain parts of Europe. Leonardo did extensive traveling while he was in the past, if I haven't mentioned that already."

Honestly, Harry didn't really much like that idea. He thought about the 'travels' he did in the past year. He got that sick feeling again, but nodded. He was used to people asking a lot of him.

"Excellent," he said, although in his tone it didn't sound excellent and it sounded strange to hear such an old man say a word like that. "I'll send a list of ingredients tomorrow by Fawkes with the dates the ingredients will be mature."

He couldn't help but feel nervous about the future. He was used to the threat of the Ministry, and he was used to being alone, but without Hermione and Ron, he wondered if he really should go traveling for the ingredients. He knew the castle was safe and secure, but since he felt as he did, he wondered if it was a good idea. At least, he thought, searching for ingredients wouldn't be as bad as searching for Horcruxes.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore, auburn-haired and young, who would later give Harry a mission he almost couldn't do. Even with that thought, he felt no resentment toward him. He still felt like Dumbledore's man through and through. If Dumbledore and Merrythought trusted Flamel, then he should. If he could do Dumbledore's mission, one which people would have called a suicide mission, then he could do Flamel's.

Slowly, Harry nodded. He had to help.

* * *

Albus listened carefully to what Flamel was saying to Harry as he worked on his project for Flamel. Flamel hadn't told Albus half those things, but he guessed it was with good reason. It wasn't him going back into the future.

What confused him the most, however, was what Flamel had said when he got a good look at Harry. "The magic has died, hasn't it?," he had said as he touched Harry's scar. "You should have died many times. If the Elixir doesn't work on you, I will be astonished." That only proved the scar was caused by magic, possibly Dark magic because of what he said about death. But, Albus had to remind himself not to look too much into it. He couldn't assume anything even though he desperately wanted to.

Albus lost track of time while Harry and Flamel talked. Merrythought interjected some comments while they were going over the step list, but quieted down after that. They talked more and then quieted for a few seconds too long.

"Albus," Flamel said. He jumped and turned in the rickety chair most likely held up by magic. "Perenelle wishes to see you."

Although he hadn't heard her, he knew the Flamels communicated in a way Albus had never figured out. He stood, thinking he needed to ask them about that at some point.

The Flamel's lived in the disappearing farmland of England, somewhere near Oxford, and when he exited Flamel's work shed, the landscape was extremely beautiful with a small pond and a high grown field next to the house. A forest of trees out in the distance lined the field and caused him to remember his old home village called Mould-on-the-Wold. There was a Muggle farmer that lived on the outskirts of the village that Albus remembered lived on a plot of land almost exactly the same as the Flamel's.

Albus entered the small house they lived in after walking on a short stone path that a garden lined. He could hear voices to the right, in the sitting room where Mrs. Flamel and Bathilda Bagshot sat.

"Ah, Albus," Mrs. Flamel said, her white hair over her shoulder in a long braid. "Sit down."

He did in a stuffed chair next to Bathilda, who smiled and nodded at him as he crossed his legs.

"Bathilda was just telling me that you live on the same street?" Mrs. Flamel asked.

"Yes, ma'am, we do," he said smiling. "How are you today, Mrs. Bagshot?"

Bathilda, who wasn't very much older than Merrythought and had a nice round face and light blonde hair, said, "Very well, Albus. I saw your mother the other day. She was talking about your recent publication in Transfiguration Today. I read it myself and it was quite good."

"Thank you," he said with a nod. "I worked very hard on it."

"It shows. I missed you this past summer," she said. "You seem to have grown since I last saw you in December."

Albus hadn't really noticed that he grew, though his robes did seem to hover over his shoes a little too much. He was still as skinny as ever, though.

"Boys do seem to shoot up, don't they?" Mrs. Flamel said. Albus tried not to blush.

Bathilda nodded curtly. "Oh, yes. My nephew, Gellert, is in sixth year this year at Durmstrang. He just shot up this past spring. I visited his mother, my sister, at Easter and again before he went back to school. He grew at least a meter."

"He's quite brilliant, didn't you say?" Mrs. Flamel said.

She nodded again. "Quite. He received 11 O.W.L.s in fourth year. They take them earlier than Hogwarts students," she informed Albus. "How many did you receive, Albus?"

"Ten," he said, suddenly feeling inadequate. Someone made more than him? He'd only heard of the second highest being eight in his year, and in the year before, the highest had been seven. "But that was all that I took," he said as if making up an excuse. "I chose to leave out Divination and Astronomy."

"Ah, Gellert took Astronomy," Bathilda said. "He's not much of a seer, either. Actually, from what I know of you, I believe you two would get along quite well." She nodded, but Albus just stared and smiled good-naturally. He wasn't sure what to say, really, so he kept quiet.

Albus didn't really see much use in being with them, as they were just chatting. "I was interviewing Perenelle earlier," Bathilda said at one point, "for my history book. You gave a very insightful interview." He just listened and said something when he could to make it seem as if he wasn't bored.

"Nicolas is calling you," Mrs. Flamel said in what felt like an hour later, though was probably only a few minutes. "Miss Galatea and Mr. Potter are getting set to leave."

Dumbledore nodded and stood. "Thank you for the tea," he said, pointing to the tea cup Mrs. Flamel gave him halfway through. "And it was good seeing both of you."

They nodded. "Farewell, Albus. Oh, and by the way, I'm coming to Hogwarts this week."

Albus nodded, remembering the note his mother sent. "My mother told me. I'll see you, then, Mrs. Bagshot."

"Good, good. Care to give me a tour?"

"Of course, ma'am." Then, he left with a smile to them.

Harry and Merrythought were standing by the fireplace when he came back.

"Albus, I need to speak with you. Go, both of you," Flamel said to the other two. They did, though Albus caught Harry's eye before he left. This time, Albus didn't get any type of memory from him and that sort of scared him. He got the feeling Harry was intentionally closing his mind. But, he didn't get much time to think about it because in a flash of green light, Harry was gone.

"Did you get any further with your project?" Flamel asked. Albus was surprised that he wasn't next to him anymore and he saw him, instead at the table he was sitting at before, holding his invention. Flamel wasn't one to waste any time and clicked it.

The candle on the desk flickered. Dumbledore's heart skipped a beat as a small spark entered the instrument. He clicked it again and the spark jumped out and landed on the desk. A piece of parchment lying there burst into flames. As Flamel grabbed a piece of metal and threw it over the fire, Albus cried out, "It worked!"

Flamel chuckled humorlessly. "You would be correct. Have it working in the next month fully and you'll be done with your apprenticeship."

Albus nodded enthusiastically. Flamel handed it back to him and was by the stemming cauldron in about the same amount of time it took for the parchment to set on fire. "Care for soup?"

"What kind?"

"Lamb."

Albus, who could normally eat anything, felt his stomach turn, thinking about the goats in the back yard of his house. He couldn't imagine eating lamb when it made him think of Aberforth's pets. "No, thank you, sir."

Flamel merely grunted and waved his hand, which was a signal that Albus was dismissed.

And, in a flash of green smoke, Dumbledore was gone.

* * *

Harry thought he saw a silver wisp enter Flamel's ear before he said, "Albus, Perenelle wishes to see you."

Harry thought that was strange, but he assumed the wisp he saw entering his hair was a message from his wife. When Dumbledore left, Flamel waited about a minute before he said, "You're concerned about Albus."

Harry gave a nod.

"About what?"

"Er," Harry looked at Merrythought, wondering if he should say anything in front of her.

"Don't worry, Harry," she said as if sensing his discomfort. "I wouldn't tell him anything you say."

"Well," he said, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand even though that only happened when he knew something wasn't right. "Dumbledore's important to the future, and I am, too," he said. "He can't know anything about me or it would ruin so many things. He's trying to figure out what I know and what I am. I know it. He's the most brilliant wizard of the 20th century. I can't say anything, but if he found out anything about me or even remembered me, it could change so much about the future."

"It has to do with-" Flamel reached out to trace the scar again. Harry stood still, hating the attention.

Harry nodded, grateful when he finally dropped his hand. "I'm sure Dumbledore finds it out all on his own after I get it. I don't think I have anything to do with that now."

Flamel nodded, but from the withered knit in between his white eyebrows, Harry knew he was thinking hard.

"I'll work on that," Flamel said. "I'm sure I can develop a potion that will only erase you from his memory if you think that he can't know anything."

"He can't."

"I'll work on that," he said. "Dumbledore won't remember anything about you. I promise."

Merrythought looked as if she would protest, but with a fierce look from Harry, she didn't say anything. Harry was sure this was the right thing to do, even more right than what he felt about leaving Hogwarts to travel.

He was sure Dumbledore didn't have to know anything.

* * *

**AN**: I feel like Dumbledore's part in the chapter went a little fast, but I hope it's not too bad. It's all that needs to be said for right now. I wrote this chapter fast because I didn't want to draw it out even more than it has been. I'm sorry if it's lower quality than usual.

And sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up! I had mid-terms (which I beasted with all A's, (well, except British Literature. My teacher still hasn't handed it back yet and it's been two weeks!)), I actually made some friends this year too, and I'm preparing an outline for NaNoWriMo (google it if you don't know what it is and try it!) this year. So, I've been busy with all that. Excuses, excuses. I'm very sorry. I'll try to get up another chapter this weekend to make up for that.

Oh, and since I am doing NaNoWriMo on top of some annoying essays I have to do for Art History and English, I might be absent again during November. But, I'll try to get as much done with this story in the next two weeks as I can. And in December, I'll have plenty of time because of winter break. I can't believe there are only about six more weeks left this semester! Then I'll be a junior in college! So weird.

Thanks for your patience!


	8. 8: The Shift

**Chapter 8: The Shift**

* * *

Harry watched the Quidditch practice from the window of his study, clutching in his hand the list Flamel promised to give him with all the dates, locations and ingredients he had to get. There were only about five, but he had to go to Germany to get them all. Harry thought he heard Flamel say he traveled during that time, but Harry guessed traveling in the 1400s was different than it was in the 20th century.

Quidditch was different, too. From what he could see, the little players down on the Quidditch field were going very slowly, hardly zipping up and down the field. He remembered seeing the broomstick in Quality Quidditch Supply the last time he fetched potion ingredients. If that model was fast, then it must have been very slow.

Harry got up from the window, wondering if he should go down to lunch. He normally had a house-elf bring his meals up, but he kept thinking that maybe he should make more appearances out of class, especially now that the Ministry had a record of him. It wouldn't matter then. Most of the teachers, he knew, had never even seen him before. He was trying to keep a low profile, but Merrythought always said the staff were asking aout her mysterious new assistant during evening meetings. "I just said you're shy," she said. "Extremely shy."

"But I'm not shy," he said.

"I know, but you are quiet."

But, really, when Harry thought about it, it was a relief that no one knew who he was. He had gotten tired of being known everywhere. He was glad that when he was on assignment, no one really bothered him. He had no idea how he had gotten so lucky about that. After the war ended, he gave a few interviews from the advisement of McGonagall to keep the press at bay, but then, he kept to himself in the Burrow and usually met with Andromeda to see Teddy.

In fact, the first time Harry had seen Teddy was the day of Remus and Tonks's funeral.

"Are you left or right handed?" Andromeda had asked as she held Teddy tightly above him a few months before.

Quite frankly, Harry wasn't sure why she was asking him that. She held onto week and half old child so tightly that if she lessened her hold any, she'd drop the baby.

"I'm right," he said, holding out his arms. Gently, Andromeda shifted him, the baby's head on her right as she handed the little thing to him.

He was heavier than Harry thought he would be. His eyes were large and glassy, a light edge of blue on the edge of the irises. Teddy blinked and suddenly his hair was jet black. Not even two seconds later, though, it shifted again.

"His hair's really blonde," Andromeda said, sitting carefully on the couch and leaning forward. Harry noticed her eyes were red, but he couldn't blame her. She'd lost so much in just a week, not counting Mr. Tonks a few months before. Tonks, Lupin, her younger sister, Bellatrix. Harry couldn't imagine mourning Bellatrix Lestrange, but Andromeda, who looked so much like her, had a right to, even if the woman had been a Death Eater and killed Sirius.

"Blonde?" Harry asked.

Andromeda nodded, her hand over her mouth. "I expect it'll get darker when he's older. Remus's hair."

"Er, right," Harry said. He could see Lupin in his mind. Not when he was older, on the last day Harry had ever seen him, but from the memories from what Snape put in the pensieve. He could see Lupin sitting by a tree, frowning at Harry's dad and Sirius, Peter Pettigrew looking on as Lily ran up and told them to let Snape go. It was hard to believe everyone in that spectacle was gone.

Teddy and Harry were the only ones left of that group. Harry had felt his eyes warm up, but blinked back the tears that were forming. He didn't want to cry.

"I admit," Andromeda said hesitantly. Harry glanced at her, then back at the warm baby in his arms. "I didn't know what Remus and Dora were thinking. I'm sorry that I doubted their choice in godfather."

"No, I understand," said Harry. He wanted to be careful with his words. He couldn't upset her. He'd only met her once before seeing Teddy, when he had just gotten back from the chase in the sky back in July. If that was a bad first impression, Harry didn't know what was. At least, he considered, not counting countless newspaper articles and lies told by the Ministry over the years. "I'm even more riskier than Sirius was as my godfather."

"I've learned a lot about Sirius from Remus," she said. "Even though he was my cousin, Remus knew him a thousand times better than I could ever. Both of them combined with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew had to be a risky situation. The more I think about it, it's only proper that you are Teddy's godfather. They were more than brothers, it seems like."

Harry didn't say anything about Pettigrew. He was sure she knew what had happened, but Harry couldn't bring him up. Teddy fidgeted, waving his arms and clasping and unclasping his tiny hands. His leg gave a great wiggle. Harry, for some reason, started bouncing him and he immediately quieted down.

Andromeda sighed and stood. "We should get to the funeral," she said, carefully extracting Teddy from Harry's hold. He gave a whimper, but she bounced him and he quieted.

Harry could tell Andromeda was nervous as she strapped the baby into a carrier. Her hands shook.

"Let me-"

She shook her head. "I've got it. Thank you."

Harry followed Andromeda down the street. It was a bright day with their shadows long in the evening sun. Harry could see the graveyard a distance away with a white tent over one area. She had explained that Remus and Tonks would be buried side by side. As they got closer, Harry could see a large group gathered around the tent. It was much larger than what had been at Snape's, whose funeral had been that morning. Various Hogwarts professors and a few Slytherins, including the Malfoy's, had attended. Many seemed to be very surprised to see Harry there as he stood in the back of the group. Harry hadn't noticed any other Death Eater's, who were most likely on the run from Aurors.

As Harry pushed open the gate and allowed Andromeda to come in with Teddy, Harry studied the group. There were many Order members and a few Dumbledore's Army members, as well. He could see Neville talking with Ron and Hermione quietly. He could see McGonagall and Sprout together. Most Aurors were around as well. There were even a few people he had never even seen before, most likely friends of Tonks and Remus.

But, as they moved closer, Harry spotted Malfoy and Narcissa standing toward the side. It took Harry a minute to figure out why before he remembered that Narcissa was Andromeda's sister, and that meant Malfoy was Tonks' cousin. Harry frowned as he realized he was the godfather of Malfoy's second cousin.

"Come, Draco," Harry heard Narcissa say. They started moving forward. Andromeda stopped, switching Teddy's carrier to her other hand to be in between her and Harry. Harry halted at the same time as Narcissa and Malfoy. There was a large space in between.

"Hello Narcissa," Andromeda said coolly. "Draco."

Malfoy nodded, catching Harry's eye. His face was bare of emotion and he glanced down at the carrier with Teddy in it. Andromeda handed it to Harry.

"Andromeda, Mr. Potter." She looked him over once. "I'm very sorry about your daughter and, er, son-in-law," Narcissa said, noticing the baby as well. "Is this their son?"

Andromeda nodded. "Teddy, after my husband."

"Of course," Narcissa said. "I can see he's a metamorphamagus as well." The tone of her voice had an undertone to it that made Harry's blood start to boil. "Did he get anything of his father?"

"His natural hair color and I expect his eyes. Other than that, no."

Harry knew that she was talking about the werewolf problem. Harry sighed, trying to get the anger out, and shifted the carrier to his right hand. Teddy was heavier than he looked and felt when holding him with both hands.

"Does he have a godparent?" Narcissa asked, although Harry suspected that she already knew.

"I am," he stated.

Narcissa flinched as if that was the worst news she had ever received while Malfoy's eyes widened. Harry noticed over the blonde's shoulders Ron and Hermione watching them.

"Mrs. Malfoy," he said. She jerked to look at him. "Thank you for what you did a few days ago. I promise I'll help take care of your nephew as best as I can."

He nodded his head once and handed Teddy back to Andromeda. Harry caught Malfoy's eye, said, "See you, Draco," and slipped past him to Ron and Hermione.

At once, Ron and Hermione demanded to know what that was about. "Teddy's their family," he said.

Ron blanched, "I'd forgotten that. He looks a bit like Tonks, though."

"His features are Remus's," Hermione said.

The ceremony started and seats were taken. Harry sat in the front row next to Andromeda, Draco and Narcissa. There wasn't much blood family.

The little man who had provided the eulogy for Dumbledore and did the wedding for Bill and Fleur, spoke about Remus and Tonks's lives. Andromeda had Teddy out of the basket and held him close to her cheek. He could see tears dripping onto his head. His little bit of hair turned damp and dark as it changed color.

Finally, when the eulogy was over, the closed caskets disappeared into the ground with a wave of the little man's wand. People stood and came over to give Andromeda sympathy. It was only when Kingsley came by that Harry was even really acknowledged besides a quick, "Thanks for offing Voldemort," as all of the attention was on the grieving grandmother.

The man pulled Harry to the side.

"How are you doing, Harry?" he asked as quietly as his large voice could muster.

"I'm glad Voldemort is gone," he said, realizing his face was tear stained. He wiped it off with his sleeve.

"Aren't we all," he said, a sad smile breaking out. "I'm sure you'd want a rest after what's happened the past few years, but we're inviting anyone who fought on Dumbledore's side in the Battle to join the Aurors. We're hoping that you'll join."

Harry was stunned. That was all he wanted to do and to have Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was now in the running for new Minister, ask him to join astounded Harry. He wanted to say yes immediately, but something else came to his mind.

"I haven't taken the N.E. yet," he said.

"Come now," Kingsley said, "You've proved yourself. An application process will take place on the 20th. Come if you're willing. Excuse me, I have to ask Weasley and Granger."

Harry watched him wander off to Ron and Hermione. He could hear Kingsley's voice over everyone else's and he clearly saw both of them shake their heads. In surprise at Ron and the fact that Kingsley wandered off toward Neville, Harry came to them.

"You don't want to, Ron?" he asked him.

"I'm helping George in the joke shop," he said. "I'd love to, mate, but you know, after Fred." He shrugged. Hermione took his hand and smiled sadly.

"What about you, Hermione?"

"I'm finishing school. Both of you should, too."

Ron shook his head behind Hermione's back. When Harry laughed, Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I thought you'd at least consider it, Harry," Hermione said. "You love Hogwarts."

"I don't know. I have a godson. I don't want to leave everything to Andromeda. And, I guess," he paused for a moment, glancing at Ron apologetically. "Ginny."

"Ginny's going to school," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head, flattened his bangs out, and glanced back at Andromeda. Narcissa and Draco were gone and people were still telling their sympathies to her. "I should make sure Teddy's okay."

"Of course. Will you be at Burrow tonight?"

"Yes," he told Hermione. "I'll be there by eight."

He cradled Teddy over the next few minutes. The last two people to come by were McGonagall and Sprout. Sprout told her how much she'd miss Tonks and ran a hand over Teddy's head as he slept. McGonagall said the same as well, but turned to Harry.

"Harry," McGonagall said as Andromeda stood.

"Professor," he said.

"I heard you talked to Kingsley, am I correct?"

"Yes," he said.

"Will you take his offer?"

"I'm not sure yet."

McGonagall hummed. "What else are you thinking about?"

"I might go back to Hogwarts," he said, surprising him. Didn't he just say he had to be there for the baby he was holding in his arms? "Hermione and Ginny are."

A sincere smile passed over McGonagall's lips for an instant before it disappeared.

"I feel I should advise you to come back to Hogwarts, but the Aurors could use someone like you. Kingsley is high in the running for being Minister. We all trust he will do the Ministry good."

"I agree, Professor," he said.

"I did say I'd do whatever it takes to get you to be an Auror. I won't back down on that promise."

Teddy yawned and started to fidget. He opened his eyes partially, then closed them. Andromeda took him away again, freeing Harry to stand. It was the first time he realized he was taller than McGonagall. She had always seemed to tower over him. He wondered how much he had grown since Dumbledore's death. He recalled her scream as Hagrid brought him back to Hogwarts out of the forest after his soul spilt from Voldemort. He felt his heart swell and he knew he couldn't let her down, but he didn't know what the right choice to make was.

"Thank you," he said to her.

"You deserve it, Harry."

Once the professors left, Andromeda put Teddy back in the carrier and they both walked back to her house. Harry settled down in an armchair while Andromeda fed the baby. Harry couldn't help but wonder what he should do. It was true that Harry had always wanted to be an Auror ever since he heard of them, but to be with Ginny would be wonderful, if Ginny actually took him back.

He wanted to be with Ginny. That was for certain. Now that Ron and Hermione were an 'item', he knew he should get going on having a girlfriend again. He wasn't much of a danger anymore, with Voldemort gone. But being an Auror would be dangerous because they would most likely end up on the chase for Death Eaters. He was sure there were a few that wanted him dead.

Teddy was making funny noises as he sucked on the bottle. It was almost laughable, but too much was going on in Harry's head to really notice until Andromeda said, "Shall I teach you how to change a nappy?" and suddenly, he stopped wondering.

It was strange to Harry, months later as he sat in his new office, that he had actually returned to Hogwarts. In the end, he had done both. He'd even gotten Ginny back.

He honestly had doubts about going to find the ingredients. He didn't know why. Maybe it was fear of leaving what was as normal as it could get a hundred years in the past.

There was still the matter of what to do with the Elder Wand. That wand seemed to haunt him. He carried it with him at all times. He couldn't give it to Ollivander, and he scratched the idea of asking him about what to do with a wand that you didn't want. he thought back to when he denied Kingsley for the first time.

What had he been thinking then? Was this feeling of fear the same thing he felt then when he couldn't decided whether to go back to school or join the Aurors?

There was something hollow in him.

What was he doing, really? He asked himself as he thought about the wand. Why was he being so fearful? Why was he fearing traveling or even going down to lunch in the Great Hall where he went everyday before? Was it because of Teddy, because of Ginny? He wanted to get back to them so bad, but where was his 'saving people thing' that he always heard from people? Harry could remember Hermione saying fear of a name increases the fear of the thing itself. That wasn't just about the name, he realized. He had fear of the adventure that he once loved and suddenly lost after Voldemort was gone.

Really, Harry didn't have to just sit there and do nothing. Did he really need Ron and Hermione there? He was so used to their presence, but that didn't mean that he couldn't go on without them.

It had been two weeks. He needed to do something.

He stood up, the parchment still clutched in his hand. He grabbed a quill, and with determination, he drew out a calendar at the bottom where he crossed the dates he would leave and return. Then, at the bottom of even that, he made of list of people he wanted to talk to.

He was going to more than wait. But, first, he needed to face everyone else. He wasn't scared of people. He was scared of the possibility of getting hurt before he could make it back to his family. He hated to be scared of death, and somehow, he realized, that was exactly what he was scared of. He had to break that fear again.

* * *

AN: I know this is much shorter than my chapters usually are, but this part needed to happen, especially Harry's thought shift. Someone reviewed and said that Harry wasn't oing anything and suggested that he go and talk to other people about things. I realized that that would be a nice change, and so I could explore characters and all that.

I feel like Andromeda is usually much less subdued than she is in this chapter, but she's in mourning… She'll be around a little bit more later on.

Thanks for reading! I'll update as soon as I can.


	9. 9: Bathilda, Gellert, and Cadmus

**Chapter 9: Bathilda, Gellert, and Cadmus**

**

* * *

**

"Ah, Aberforth," said Dumbledore as he sat down across from his brother in the common room right before lunch. The common room was packed, but somehow the other Gryffindors seemed to gravitate away from Aberforth as he leaned in close to his paper and whispered to his quill, which jumped across the page at almost the same speed as he talked.

His blue eyes moved up, then he said, "Finite Incantatem," and the quill dropped down and rested on the table like any other quill. It didn't surprise him that he was about to use magic without a wand. "What do you want?" he asked irritably. "I was in the middle of an essay."

Dumbledore shook his head at his tone, but smiled with half-amusement, half-impatience. "Why always so angry, brother?"

"I wouldn't be angry if you just left me alone," Aberforth muttered. "Please get on with it."

"Look," Albus said, glancing behind him to make sure no one was listening. No one was, but it still bothered him to discuss anything in here. "Come up to my dorm, alright? Around eleven, if you will."

"Why?"

"I'm giving Bathilda Bagshot a tour after she has lunch with Professor Black. She has a note from mother to give me."

Aberforth stared at him with his piercing eyes. Albus only stared right back.

"I'll come," he said finally, picking up his quill and his wand. "I'm usually up that late doing work, anyway."

"Thank you," Albus said. "Care to join me at lunch?"

"No, I have to finish this." Then, he muttered a spell and the quill pulled away from his hand, ready to listen to what Aberforth had to say.

Albus shook his head and wondered how Aberforth would ever pass his O.W.L.s doing that. Honestly, he couldn't tell if Aberforth was just bluffing about his inability to read or if he just found talking to a quill easier.

Albus met Elphias in the Entrance Hall and they entered the Great Hall together. The only reason why they were separated was because Professor Garside asked Elphias to stay after. Elphias didn't look grim or anything, just neutral, which told Albus he didn't have the best time.

"What did Professor Garside want with you?" Albus asked him as they sat down across from each other at the Gryffindor table.

Elphias shook his head and reached for the bowl of potatoes. "He had a problem with my last essay. He said I copied from your paper. I swear he has it in for you, Albus. I mean, he's nice and all to you when he's with you, but I don't think he likes you all that much."

"I noticed," Albus said. "He helps me a lot, but I believe he's bitter. I've surpassed him." he paused and glanced up at the Head table, looking for Garside. He was there, right next to Professor Merrythought, who sat right next to Bathilda Bagshot. Garside was watching Merrythought and Bagshot quite contently as they chatted. "What section did he say you copied?"

"The part about the brain and human transfiguration, that people don't have animalistic qualities when they're transformed into an animal."

"He must believe you're thick enough to confess to something that's not true. I certainly don't believe that. Anyone could have gotten that out of a book."

"No, I think he's just trying to get you in trouble. I don't know why."

Albus gave another shrug as if waving it off. "As long as you're not in trouble."

"No, I said I got it out of a book that you had. That is the truth, anyway."

"Yes, it is," Albus said, glancing up at the double doors. He turned away, but then took a double take.

Harry had just entered the Great Hall for the first time Albus had ever seen him. He wore a different expression of what he normally had, one that looked like a cross between anger and misery. But, he walked calmly up to him and sat down right next to the auburn boy and across from Elphias.

"Hi, Albus, Elphias," he said. Albus glanced at the latter, raising an eyebrow. Elphias didn't notice it, though, because he was shaking Harry's hand. What confused Albus the most was the fact that he'd never called him by his first name before. "Is it alright if I talk to you after this, Albus?"

"I wish I could, but I can't," Albus said, watching him as he piled food onto his plate and filled a goblet with pumpkin juice. "You're a staff member, Harry."

Harry sent Dumbledore a confused expression, but then glanced up at the head table. "I'd rather- is that Bathilda Bagshot?"

Dumbledore snuck a look at her as if he needed another confirmation that she was up there. "Yes, that's Mrs. Bagshot."

Harry stared up at the table for a little longer, his green eyes set on something up there. Albus could only assume it was Bathilda.

"You said you knew her earlier?" Albus asked.

"We've met," Harry said, but his eyes seemed to grow dark as if he was remembering something horrible.

"I'm guessing not in the best circumstances?"

"No," Harry said.

"You seem to have met a lot of people," he said almost suspiciously. He really didn't understand how he knew him or Elphias. He had a clue, of course, that he was a professor, but how could he know Bathilda Bagshot as well? It seemed so strange, since he knew Harry hadn't grown up in Godric's Hollow like the other Potters. Albus wondered what other people he knew or met.

Harry drank from his goblet, and then said, "Yeah, I have. I doubt as many as you've had."

Albus could tell he was lying, but decided not to pursue it, especially since he could feel someone behind him all of a sudden. He looked up and Professor Black stood there with Bathilda Bagshot.

"Mrs. Bagshot," he said, standing up to greet her kindly. "How are you today?"

"Great, just wonderful," she said with a large smile on her face. "And you, my boy?"

"Excellent," he said.

Professor Black cut in at that moment, his hands behind his back. "Mrs. Bagshot has requested you, Mr. Dumbledore, to give her a tour, if you will be so willing."

"Of course," he said, standing instantly.

Mrs. Bagshot nodded curtly, said, "Hello, Mr. Potter," and started walking. Albus glanced at Harry; both were quite surprised at her mention, but a figure passed by him, a figure with dark, unruly hair.

"Hello, Mrs. Bagshot. Good to see you," Atticus Potter said before giving a kind smile and continuing on to sit with his friends down at the end of the table. It was, in fact, true that the Potter's lived in Godric's Hollow. Even though Albus knew that, he had never heard or seen Bagshot talk to the Potters, but then again, Albus didn't wander much while he stayed there.

"Well, Dumbledore, go on," Professor Black said, giving a slight glare before turning and stalking down the lane between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables.

Albus glanced at Harry once more, but only found him saying something to Elphias, and Albus caught up with Mrs. Bagshot at the wide doors leading to the Entrance Hall.

"Your mother and sister are doing well," Mrs. Bagshot said as he led her to the marble staircase.

"Wonderful," Albus said, nodding. They were trailing the stairs now and Albus honestly didn't feel much like talking about his mother to Mrs. Bagshot. His thoughts were still on Harry in the Great Hall. "Would you like to see anywhere in particular?"

"I would really like to see the library, actually. There are maps of the school from the founders, you know," she said. "I was hoping Madam Foer would allow me to copy them for my book, then, maybe you can show me about? I haven't been in this castle for a very long time."

Albus didn't dare ask how long, knowing that that would be incredibly rude, but he nodded and led her off to the library. He hoped that he would get a chance to see the maps as well.

* * *

Harry watched Albus exit the Great Hall with Mrs. Bagshot, and then turned back to Elphias sitting across from him with a large book suddenly out on the table.

"Elphias," Harry said.

"Yes?" he asked, glancing up.

Harry stabbed an egg with his fork. "Does Dumbledore know anyone named Gellert Grindelwald?"

Elphias's eyebrows furrowed and as he thought about it, he picked up his goblet and swished the contents around for a moment. "I don't believe so… No. I haven't heard of that name. Why?"

"No reason," Harry said. He glanced down the table toward Atticus Potter. He'd seen him in a couple classes before. Harry didn't normally go to that many of the classes, only when Merrythought was doing big demonstrations, but when he was in the same room as the third year, he couldn't help but study him. His features were very Potter-like, but with almost deliberate flaws, such as his eyes and nose shape. He doubted if anyone saw them together and didn't know their last names, they wouldn't have any idea they were distantly related. "Excuse me. It was nice seeing you."

He nodded, but still his eyebrows were furrowed as if trying to figure out who Gellert Grindelwald was. Harry didn't blame him as he picked up his plate and made his way to Atticus.

Harry glanced up at the Head Table before he got to him and caught Merrythought watching him. He smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

Atticus wasn't with his friends, instead he was writing on a piece of parchment with a barn owl standing on the table, drinking from his goblet.

"May I sit here?" Harry asked.

Atticus looked up slowly and his eyes went wide. "Of- of course, Mr. Potter," he said and his ink that he had been dipping his quill in tipped over. Harry got out his wand and cleaned it up quickly for him. He never imagined a relative of his to be nervous.

"Thank you," Harry said, dropping his plate down and sitting across from him.

"Do you need anything, sir?" he asked. He closed his ink tightly and signed his name. His owl stuck out a leg for him.

"No, I just noticed you were alone. I wasn't sure… I mean."

Atticus seemed to calm a little at that. His tense shoulders dropped as he tied the letter to the owl's leg with a leather string.

"What's your owl's name?" Harry asked, reaching out. The bird stare at his hand in front of his face before he nipped at his finger carefully. Harry ran a hand over his soft feathers.

"Harold," he sighed. "My dad named him before I could."

"Did he?" Harry smiled, though he hoped that his own dad didn't name him after a hundred year old owl of all things. "How'd that happen?"

"He bought him for my birthday in April. He had to keep him in his office for a few days before he could give him to me. The name just sort of stuck." He paused for a second as the owl spread his wings. Harry lifted his hand at the same time Harold flapped them and flew off. "Can I ask you something, sir?"

Harry nodded and chewed a bit of his egg carefully, ready to listen.

"Is your name really Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I told my dad about you, but he didn't know you. He figured there was another branch of Potter's that he hadn't heard of."

"Maybe," Harry said slowly, glancing back up at Merrythought. She was studying them. "I don't know what your father's name is. Horace Slughorn told me about he was pretty important in the Ministry."

"Oh, his name's Cadmus Potter and he's in the Wizengamot. He always says that for generations there's only been one son each for the Potter's. There have been daughters, but just one son each. That's why he finds it strange he never heard of you before." He paused again, reaching down to the floor to grab his school bag. He tucked his quill and inkbottle into a side pocket. "Can I ask what your father's name is?"

"James Potter," Harry said, knowing that his father wouldn't be born for another sixty years, so he figured it would be okay to say that. "I grew up in Surrey."

"I've lived in Godric's Hollow my whole life," he said. "The Potter's have had a house there for a long time. I guess you aren't related to me, then, if you're from Surrey."

"I guess not," Harry said. He resisted a sigh, because, really, he had never met any Potter before, and here was one right in front of him, someone that was most likely a grandfather of his or something. He had no idea. He suddenly wished he had looked into his family tree.

"Sir, can I ask you another question?" Atticus asked.

"Sure, but only if you stop calling me 'Sir.'"

He smiled, but bit his lip to hide it. "This is probably really rude, but how old are you? Sorry, you look like you're a lot younger than the other professors."

"I'm eighteen, and I'm not really a professor. I'm an assistant. I'm way too young to be an actual teacher."

His face grew red. "Right. Sorry."

"It's alright." Harry pushed his plate away from him, finished with lunch. "I should go. Professor Merrythought wanted me in the Defense class for the fifth years."

Atticus nodded and Harry went on to Defense.

* * *

Madam Foer hovered her wand over the old, perfectly preserved vellum showing the castle plan from a thousand years ago. Albus stood in front of the table in a side chamber in the library in awe of the map. He didn't understand the measurements or the Old English too well, but he still found the amount of detail fascinating.

"Careful, Dumbledore," Madam Foer said sternly.

It took him a second to realize that his nose was extremely close to the vellum, the better to see with to try to make out the writing. Blushing, he stood up straight. "Sorry, Madam."

She swept her wand over the parchment again, and then carefully lifted it away to a new sheet laying flat on the table. She tapped her wand against the edge and slowly, a web of ink filled up the pages, drawing out the lines in an exact replica of the original maps.

"Can you teach me that?" Albus asked, moving to study the new parchment. He'd never seen that particular charm before.

"Certainly, come tomorrow and I'll show you. It's much more complicated than it looks," Madam Foer said, her lips tight as if she didn't want to show him her secret formula. Albus nodded, even though he doubted the difficulty of a copying charm. She turned to Mrs. Bagshot again. "When will this book be published? I'm quite excited for it."

"About two years or so," Mrs. Bagshot said. "I'm about done with all my research. I saved Hogwarts for last."

They talked for a long while. Albus hardly listened as they talked about the publishing process. He knew about the magical process already, since he frequently wrote articles for Transfiguration Today.

Instead, Albus took his time to study what was different about the school. All four towers were still present, but the school was only three stories. Somehow the school formed four more stories by itself, probably to accommodate hundreds more students.

"Thank you very much," Mrs. Bagshot said. The papers suddenly disappeared from under Albus's nose and he glanced up. Mrs. Bagshot held them in her hand, though the original copies were still lying out on the table. "It was lovely to talk to you, Elaine."

"You as well. Take care."

"You're a very curious young man," Mrs. Bagshot said once they stepped out of the library. "My nephew I talked about on Saturday is the same way."

Albus had forgotten about him, Gellert she called him. He nodded along with her.

"My niece, his mother, says he wants to come to England after he finishes school. He won't graduate until a year after you, but I think you would have lots him common with him. I don't know how independent he is, but I think he'd appreciate a friend here when he does come."

"His name is Gellert…?" Albus asked, searching for a last name.

"Grindelwald," she said, nodding curtly. "His father's German."

"Do you know him well or-"

She shook her head, "No, he's my sister's grandchild. I haven't seen him in a couple years, but my niece writes about his marks and what projects he likes to work on. There's one project. I'm actually not sure what exactly he's doing. I know it involves some kind of wand, but-"

Abruptly, Albus slammed into something as they rounded a corner. The person in front of him fell, being quite shorter than him.

"Oh, dear boy!" Mrs. Bagshot said, slipping down to her knees to couch beside him. It was only as he was rubbing his chest that Albus realized that it was Harry who hit him.

"I'm okay," Harry said, grunting as he stood up. "I'm sorry, Albus."

"It's quite all right, Harry," he said, though he realized he still felt shaken.

Harry smiled as if caught in an old memory, but before Albus could really catch anything from him, Mrs. Bagshot said, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great."

Albus looked between them for a second where Harry stood straight and Bathilda watched him worriedly.

"Er, this is Harry Potter. He's Professor Merrythought's assistant and a friend," Albus said to her. "And this is Bathilda Bagshot, Harry, the magical historian."

"Nice to meet you," said Harry. With a half-smile, he stood up straighter. "Sorry about this. I shouldn't have been running."

"It's not a problem at all, at least for me," she said. "You and Albus, however… Are you hurt, Albus?"

"Not a smudge," he said, smiling kindly. "We were just-"

"Talking about my nephew!" Mrs. Bagshot said, turning to Harry with a smile. "I was just telling Albus he should meet him when he comes to England."

Harry caught Albus's eye, and without knowing it until after it happened, he caught a flash of Harry out in front of a tent. It was snowing in the forest where he sat there, with a green covered book in his hand. There, on the page, was a picture of Albus and another boy around his age. But, quickly, that memory was gone as Harry looked away as if realizing what Albus had just done.

"What was-" but Albus stopped, realizing that Mrs. Bagshot was standing next to him.

"Er, well, I should let you go," Harry said, stepping away, though he sent him a confused look, he still turned to Mrs. Bagshot and said, "Nice to meet you." Then, he went on his way, slowly descending the staircase that Albus and Mrs. Bagshot had climbed up just a minute before.

"His name is Potter, you said?" Mrs. Bagshot asked, watching him.

"Yes, but he's not related to Cadmus Potter, if you're wondering."

"Oh, I was," she said. "He looks like he'd be related to the Potters. That hair. Sometimes I wonder if any of those Potters own a comb."

The way she said it wasn't harsh. Albus would have laughed if his thoughts hadn't roamed back to what he saw in Harry's mind. That other boy in the photograph had to be Gellert, since they had been talking about him. And, to be completely honest, Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a shiver in his chest as he thought about that, one that he had never felt before; a shiver that he couldn't quite place. But, he knew that it wasn't from nerves. It was more like elation.

As Bagshot and him continued on, all he could think about what that memory. He studied the face in his mind and all he could think about was the boys eyes, how they seemed to gleam even more so than Albus's did. He could see just from those eyes that he was brilliant. A sort of hunger filled his chest, but again, it wasn't from anything by elation. Somehow, Grindelwald looked perfect.

He had to meet him, no matter what.

* * *

Harry glanced behind him as he left the stairs. Silently, he cursed himself for not learning Occlumency when he had a chance. Those piercing eyes of Dumbledore's… he knew what he was doing and he hoped that Dumbledore wasn't able to see what Harry saw in his mind of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. That picture of Grindelwald and Dumbledore together…

He couldn't even imagine what the consequences might be if Dumbledore saw that.

Harry continued on his way down to the Defense classroom, still hoping desperately that Dumbledore didn't see what he had seen.

* * *

"Mr. Dumbledore, stay back for a moment," Professor Black said.

Dumbledore, whose hand was already turning the bronze door handle to the Headmaster's office, released it and turned slowly, tucking a note from his mother into his cloak pocket.

Mrs. Bagshot had left moments before by the green light of the Floo network, but she left Dumbledore with the note. He wanted to read it before he had to read it to Aberforth that night.

"Yes, sir?" Dumbledore said, stepping up next to the chair opposite his desk. He was leaning back in his chair, almost like a king in a throne, with his hands clasped together by his face.

"I see you have gotten friendly with Professor Merrythought's assistant," he said coolly.

"Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Professor Black nodded, surveying him with grey eyes. "Yes." He paused, picking up a quill. "Mr. Potter. He seems to handle his assistant duties well. It's obvious he's had practice."

"He was taught at Durmstrang," Dumbledore said, at least, he hoped that was Harry's story. He never thought to ask. He couldn't very well say what was true, that he was taught at Hogwarts. That would have been suspicious.

"Yes, about that," he set the quill down and stood up, walking around the desk toward his bookshelf. Albus looked around at the old portraits of the Headmasters and all had their eyes on Professor Black, waiting for him to say more. "Do you believe I am ignorant, Dumbledore?"

Albus blinked. "Of course not, Professor. The Blacks are quite-" he wanted to say cunning, but he realized that that wouldn't be the best word. "Perceptive."

Black turned his head to study him for a second longer. "Do you know that Cadmus Potter, on the Wizengamot- the one you're a junior member of- has no recollection of a Harry Potter in his family?"

"Harry's not related to them," Dumbledore said immediately. Too fast, he thought in his head.

Professor Black narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Are you sure about that, Dumbledore?"

"Very sure, sir," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "His parents are Muggle-born." He made a mental note to tell Harry he told Professor Black that. He was sure that Harry was at least a half-blood.

"Muggle-borns at Durmstrang," Professor Black scoffed. "If I had it my way-" But as if thinking better of it, he gave a sigh, turned and stepped carefully back to his desk. "Nevermind, nevermind. Well, Dumbledore, go on now. I'm sure you have school work or outside work to do."

Albus nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Professor Black didn't respond, and once Dumbledore got down to the corridor, he kicked off in a run just because he suddenly felt the need to get away from Black as quickly as he could. Somehow he'd become suspicious of Harry and he had an idea about who had alerted him.

Breathing heavily, he said the password to the Gryffindor Common Room to the Fat Lady. She swung open and revealed the sparsely populated room. He checked his watch and realized that it was a class period, but he had a free period.

He went up to his dorm room to read his mother's letter, but as he did, his thoughts went back to Mrs. Bagshot and that picture Harry had in his memory. He still couldn't shake that feeling that he had when he first thought about it. For some reason, that feeling scared him more than Professor Black had. He didn't see how that was possible, especially when he didn't even know that that feeling was in the first place.

He ended up putting the letter to the side, knowing that he would only have control of his thoughts when Aberforth came to see him.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up. I don't really have an excuse. Even though she said not to mention her, a friend told me to write this chapter and I got it done in a couple days, so this chapter could have flowed better, especially in the beginning and toward the end, but it gets the point across.

The next chapter will come soon, I promise. I have every intention of finishing this story.


	10. 10: Of Hexes, Grindylows, and Trust

**Chapter 10: Of Hexes, Grindylows, and Trust**

"Oh, I'm sorry about what happened," Professor Merrythought said, cringing.

Harry and her had just gotten done with Defense for the fifth years. Aberforth, unfortunately, had taken it upon himself to duel Alice Hornby, a Slytherin that apparently didn't like the odd brother of Albus too much. Harry hadn't even been sure what the duel was about; he could just remember spotting them right in the middle of it. Harry rushed forward, hoping to break it up, but Aberforth sent some kind of hex toward Alice that made the skin on her face to burst into boils. Harry cringed, but sent a shield between them when Aberforth got ready to say another spell.

Merrythought rushed forward to Alice, who started crying, and immediately told Alice's best friend to take her up to the Hospital Wing. Then, slowly, she turned to Aberforth.

He stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed in anger as she pointed to the door. Stalking to it, she glanced at Harry, said, "Keep going," and went out to speak to him.

"Okay, get back to your partners," Harry said.

"Sir, I don't have a partner now- Dumbledore…"

"I'll partner with you," Harry said to Aberforth's partner, a short blonde Slytherin who Harry never heard speak before.

Merrythought returned ten minutes later without Aberforth stalking in with her. As she stepped in, she glanced around, composed, and then went around to survey the class. But, once class was let out, she sighed and fell into a desk chair heavily.

"That Dumbledore, oh my Merlin," she said, shaking her head. "Oh, I'm so sorry about what happened."

"It's not your fault," Harry said uncomfortably.

She took in a deep breath, then, slowly stood up, flattening out a fold in her robes. "He has detention tonight, helping us clean the grindylow cages."

Harry nodded. That wasn't anything he was looking forward to.

"Is Alice okay?" he asked to try to stop thinking about how difficult taking cleaning those cages would be.

"Dumbledore's refusing to say what hex he used. It looks like he invented it himself. Madam Woodhouse said she's never seen that particular one before."

"Oh," Harry said. "Wait, he can invent spells?"

"I'm not sure. Most of the teachers don't even know if he can read, but he still turns in assignments. He's a very odd boy. But, anyway, I need to go back to the Hospital Wing. See you tonight at eight for our little date with Dumbledore."

She sighed again and left Harry standing in the middle of the classroom.

Harry wasn't sure what to do for a moment until he noticed Aberforth's bag lying forgotten on the floor by a desk. For a long time, Harry hesitated. He couldn't just leave his bag there. After deliberating whether or not Aberforth would come back to get and deciding that he probably would just leave it there, he picked it up and stuck it on the desk to clasp it. But, he noticed a book poking out of the top: the journal that Albus had given him, with a blue border surrounding the front cover.

The thought of seeing it in the Hog's Head came back to him. What did he have in there that he would still need to look at a hundred years later?

Harry pulled it out and flipped to the first page, passed a letter from Albus. On the first page was just a drawing of a goat, but on the other page was a drawing of a girl. He stared at her and knew she wasn't Ariana. Harry could still remember what Ariana looked like from the portrait in the Hog's Head. No, this was a different girl. Harry thought she looked familiar, but before placing her, he went on.

There wasn't any writing in the journal. Just drawings of Hogwarts and of what would later be Hagrid's cabin. But what dominated most of the pages were a lot of drawings of magical plants and beasts in various stages of growth. Just by all those types of drawings, he wondered if Aberforth's favorite classes were Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.

Harry had hoped there would be something more in the journal, but it just seemed like a regular sketchbook. He stuck it back into the bag, clasped it, and then slung it over his shoulder to go find him.

It didn't take him long to find him at all. He was just leaning against a wall two corridors down from the Defense classroom.

"Dumbledore?" Harry said.

He glanced up and immediately sighed when he saw who was there. He stood up a little straighter. It was in that moment that he realized how much taller Aberforth was than him. "What? Am I going to get another detention or something?"

"No," Harry said. "You left this."

He let the bag fall from his shoulder and held it out for him.

"Thank you," he said neutrally. He pulled it from his hands much more aggressively, though.

Harry nodded, said, "You're welcome," and began down the corridor again.

"Wait, Potter."

He turned. Aberforth jerked his head, motioning him to come closer. He did, but stood a few feet away.

Aberforth looked up and down the hallway quickly, then stepped closer, looking Harry straight in his eyes. His eyes seemed to glow bright blue from the sun shining in from outside, which was just in the beginning stages of setting. "My brother. You don't know him like I do. He's not who you think he is."

Harry blinked, but didn't shift his eyes. "And who would that be?"

"You think he's perfect, like all the other teachers do," he said gruffly. "You think just because he has perfect grades, has awards, is Head Boy and is in with the Ministry that he's the model child for the Wizarding World. Trust me when I tell you this, he's not."

Harry didn't even twitch. "Why do you think that I believe he's perfect?"

"Because everyone does," Aberforth said. "People wonder why I'm not like him. The truth is, I'd much rather have common sense than a powerful brain."

"Common sense?" Harry said before he could stop himself. "Sorry, but what was that in Defense? You don't hex someone just because."

Aberforth face flushed for a second, but that was quickly gone. "I had a reason." He paused for a second and glanced over his shoulder as if he heard something. "I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about Albus. He's not perfect."

"I know," Harry said.

"But-"

"Believe me, I know. I know more about him than you think I do, but I have to admit it's not much. Still, I know he makes mistakes. A lot of them."

Aberforth huffed after a long pause between them. Neither flinched during that time. They merely watched each other; Aberforth as if weighing what Harry was saying, and Harry just to make sure Aberforth realized he knew Dumbledore had flaws.

"Do you trust me?" Aberforth asked.

"Yes."

"Do you trust him?"

"Yes."

He huffed again and then he spun around. Harry continued on as well, but just as Harry rounded the corner, he heard: "Only a bezoar stone will cure those boils on Alice, trust me."

Harry smiled and ran off toward the Hospital Wing to tell Madam Woodhouse. Five minutes later, Alice Hornby didn't have one boil on her face and she was released with only red eyes from tears.

But, Harry wondered why Aberforth thought it necessary to warn him.

* * *

"How did you get Dumbledore to tell you?" Merrythought asked ten minutes before Aberforth was set to arrive at his detention later that night.

"Tell me wh- Oh, you mean Aberforth? He just told me," Harry said, shrugging.

"I should have thought of the bezoar," Merrythought said thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair. "I knew he had a weird infatuation with goats. Albus told me that he loved them."

"But, bezoars are for most poisons, not boils," Harry said, remembering Snape for a moment.

"If you look at Albus's theories about some things, then look at Aberforth... You never know."

Harry didn't know if he had to respond or not, so he lifted a cage onto the desk. The Grindylow peered at him through murky water, then scratched the glass.

"Do you know Aberforth where you're from?"

Harry hesitated in answering, just because he wasn't sure if he actually knew Aberforth or not. He only realized the Hog's Head proprietor was Albus's brother the night the war went on, and that had only been four months ago. "Sort of."

"But you've met him?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Does he still act the same way?"

Harry tried not to smile. "He's still pretty stubborn."

"What about Albus?"

Harry's smile, which he was struggling with, faded immediately. He was glad he was in the process of lifting a second Grindylow cage onto a desk. "He's, er… a little calmer, I guess." Harry could only think that how he said that was a little morbid, but she didn't seem to think anything was off on that statement.

"He's quite energetic now, isn't he?" Merrythought said.

"Yeah."

"Are you not comfortable talking about him?" she asked, surprising Harry.

"Er-"

There was a knock and Harry looked up to see Aberforth standing in the open doorway, a couple minutes early. Harry was glad about the distraction. He didn't really want to talk about Dumbledore.

"Ah, Dumbledore," Merrythought said, standing and coming around her desk to Harry. "You're early."

He only shrugged as he came forward, standing back a couple rows as Harry lifted an empty cage onto the desk where the two grindylows could stay while they cleaned their cages.

"Okay, well, since we're all here…" She took three pairs of gloves from her pocket. Harry took the pair she gave him, but Aberforth stared at them.

"I don't need them," he said.

"Oh, nonsense," she said, forcing them into his hands. He took them reluctantly and pulled them on. "Okay, first thing-"

It took almost half an hour to get the two out of their cages. They thrashed around in the water, soaking the three in grimy water. When Aberforth suggested they stun them, she said, "They're resistant. Didn't your professor two years ago tell you that?"

"No, he didn't."

Merrythought shook her head, sighing. "Well, anyway…"

Once they were safely in the extra cage, Merrythought looked around for a second, and then spun around, looking. "Oh, right. I knew I was forgetting something." She let out a breath. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes. I have to get the cleaning solution from Professor Glumage. Don't leave," she pointed to Aberforth who sent her an annoyed look and she stalked out of the room.

As Aberforth sat down at a desk, Harry pulled his gloves off. The fifteen year old watched him for a moment.

"You looked in my bag, didn't you?" Aberforth asked, breaking the silence between the two. The grindylows were scratching their nails against the glass, still thrashing around, and fighting with each other.

Harry jerked his head toward him. How was it possible he know that?

He huffed. "To be expected. You might trust me, but I don't trust you."

"Why don't you?" Harry asked. I guessed he could understand that even without an explanation. He really shouldn't have looked in his journal. If it were him, Harry would have been very offended if someone looked through his things.

"It's not just because you looked through my things. I don't trust anyone who would trust Albus."

Harry leaned up against Merrythought's desk. "Why don't you trust your own brother?"

"Do you have a genius brother who thinks he's the best thing to come to this school since the founders themselves?"

"No," Harry said.

"Then you wouldn't understand."

"Is it because of your sister?"

Aberforth's eyes darkened and narrowed. "How do you know I have a sister?"

Harry hesitated for a second, trying to think of something. "Albus mentioned her."

He watched him for a long moment. "What did he say about her?"

"He just said she trusted you more than him." That wasn't exactly true. That had been Aberforth that something along those lines before the Battle of Hogwarts began.

He scoffed and stood up, going toward the grindylow cages to watch the two fight. They were beginning to calm a little, but one jabbed the other in the eye. "Good thing he knows that. But, that's not why you trust me, is it?"

"No," Harry said.

"And you're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"That's between me, Dumbl- I mean, Albus- and Merrythought."

He turned around to narrow his eyes at Harry, showing him he still distrusted him. "Why should I believe you?"

"Why won't you tell anybody why you hexed Alice? That really hurt her," Harry retorted.

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not. I'm asking the same exact kind of question you are."

Aberforth didn't respond, instead he stepped over toward the bookshelves. He realized the room was silent as Aberforth studied a glass orb on the shelf. The Grindylows had stopped fighting, each sitting at opposite ends on their tank, peering at each other with wide eyes.

"How old are you again?"

"Eighteen."

"Are you in a courtship?"

"Courtship?" It took Harry a few seconds to figure out what that meant, then realized that he meant girlfriend. Ginny's face immediately came up in Harry's mind, but then he remembered whom he was talking to and Ginny's face faded. He didn't understand why Aberforth wanted to know that. "Oh, yeah, why?"

"Did you ever mess up with her before you got the chance to court her?"

"Er, no, not really. But, my best friend really messed up with his girlfriend by being with another girl for a long time before they were together."

Aberforth's shoulders dropped and Harry realized that he had been tense throughout that last part of their conversation. Harry didn't really want to know. Thinking about Ron and Hermione again, though, really took a stab at his heart. He missed Ginny, Ron, and Hermione.

Merrythought returned with the solution and after a couple hours of manual labor, the cages were clean and they struggled again to put the Grindylows in their cages. But, all Harry could think about was his friends that he left behind. He missed them more than anything.

* * *

Albus sighed. Of course Aberforth would be late. He was still the only one in the dormitory, while all his dorm mates and Elphias were probably down in the Common Room, catching up on homework that they didn't do over the weekend.

Aberforth had always been unpredictable and Albus felt he should have known he would forget that he asked him to meet him in his dorm room. But, then again, Aberforth did like when their mother wrote about their sister. He loved Ariana and Albus knew Ariana would miss Aberforth. She always did. She never missed Albus as much.

Ariana was a very sweet girl, though, when her temper didn't get the best of her. Her favorite thing to do was help Aberforth feed the Hokey and Pokey. She'd pet them gently between the ears as the goat licked her hand clean of hay, always laughing happily. Seeing her so happy made Albus smile and he always wished she could be normal again during those moments. The thought of what those boys did to her always made him angry. She could have been at Hogwarts instead of hidden away. He wished he could do something about that, but he just couldn't.

What his father did, though, was enough.

Albus pulled out his watch from his pocket. He was fifteen minutes late, but his thoughts on that matter were ruined when the door burst open and Greyson and Thomas came in.

"Hello, Albus," Thomas said, but that was it.

Albus pulled a textbook from his nightstand to pretend to read while they talked about the Hogsmeade weekend coming up.

His thoughts strayed to his family again. His father had done what he could to protect his daughter. He was sure any father that cared would do the same to for his daughter, go to Azkaban for her and die there for her.

The door opened again, but this time it was Elphias.

"Your brother's in the Common Room," he said. "You said you wanted to talk to him?"

"Oh, yes, thank you," he said, nodding and throwing his book to the side. He grabbed the note Mrs. Bagshot gave him and as he went downstairs he still couldn't get his mind off his father. Albus doubted he would ever become a father, but he knew he'd do the same if he ever did have a child, or at least, he hoped he would. It was only the right thing to do.

The Common Room was empty except for Aberforth sitting on one of the red couches and staring off into the flickering fireplace.

"Ab?" Albus said.

"Hm?" he said, not moving at all.

Albus sat down beside him with the note clutched in his hand.

"Where were you?" Albus asked.

He finally moved, his blue eyes catching Albus's. "Detention with Merrythought and Potter. I had to clean out those Grindylow tanks. It took forever."

Albus, honestly, was surprised that he hadn't heard anything about that. "What did you do?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Albus glanced at the fire again. "Because you're my brother."

He rolled his eyes. "I hexed Alice Hornby. But! She was making fun of me!"

"Making fun how?"

His face turned red. "None of your business."

Albus couldn't help but smile at Aberforth's embarrassment. It wasn't normal for his little brother to get red in the face. In fact, that was extremely rare. He could only remember once in the recent years when he had, after Albus got his O.W.L. results back and their mother said, "See that, Ab? Why don't you work as hard as Albus?"

"No, really, what happened?"

He hesitated, shifting. "Fine. I asked if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade. That obviously went well."

Instead of laughing, Albus frowned. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter."

Albus couldn't think of anything to say, so he lifted the letter up, but before he could say anything about it, Aberforth said, "How did you get Potter to trust you?"

"What?" Albus didn't know what he was talking about.

"He says he trusts you, but he won't say why."

"Why is it hard to believe that a member of the staff would trust me? Most of them do."

"Most," Aberforth said. "Black and Garside don't, but you're getting off topic."

Albus shook his head. He already knew that Professor Black and Professor Garside were a little iffy about him, but Albus didn't really know himself why Harry trusted him. All he knew was that his older counterpart knew him. He wanted to know how more intensely than Aberforth wanted to know about how Harry trusted him. That was a given. Aberforth was much more distrustful than Albus was, though he happened to think Harry was harmless.

Aberforth sighed, probably realizing that Albus actually had no idea. Albus would have done the same motion if he weren't distracted by the fact that their mom's letter was in his hand.

"Can we get onto the letter?" Albus asked him.

Aberforth huffed, but didn't say a word.

There wasn't much to be said in the letter, just that her and Ariana were doing okay and she only wrote to them so they, "wouldn't think I forgot about you two." Aberforth rolled his eyes at that, but said nothing unkind. He only perked up when she mentioned that Ariana had a pretty violent attack that, "shook me, but we're both fine. Don't worry about it."

"Why does she say not to worry?" Aberforth commented, his voice harsher than normal. He was furious. "If I was there, Mother wouldn't have trouble with her."

"You can't leave school, Ab," Albus said. "It's important."

"To be honest, I care much more about my sister than my future."

Then, abruptly, he stood up and stalked passed Albus.

"Ab-"

Aberforth took a swing at Albus's head, but Albus dodged him just in time.

"Hey!" he called out. Hee just ignored him. He didn't know where Aberforth's aggression came from, but as he pounded up the stairs, Albus wondered if he was just angry about what happened earlier in the day, maybe about the detention and the fact that he was rejected by a girl that didn't like him.

Albus shook his head, folded the note up carefully, and then followed his brother slowly up the stairs.

It was only right after breakfast the next morning that Professor Black stopped Harry in the hallway on his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Mr. Potter, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Harry hesitated, unsure. What would he want with him? "Yeah, sure."

And the two made their way up to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

A/N: So, yeah, two updates in a week to make up for not updating in months. My laptop broke so before I have to take it to the computer store to get it repaired, I decided to update just in case they have to take it away from me or something. This is also for one of my friends who had two exams this morning. That Brit Lit was fun, wasn't it?

Anyway, an Aberforth-centric chapter. He's way too much fun to write. He's pretty important to this story, so it's good to have him around.

Review if you'd like to.


	11. 11: Status

**Chapter 11: Status**

Harry sat down on a chair that was different from the one he normally sat in with Dumbledore. He wasn't exactly nervous to be there, in front of Phineas Nigellus Black, since he was one of Dumbledore's most trusted portraits, but it was strange to see him.

The Headmaster stood over him, pacing back and forth behind his desk. He hadn't realized that Professor Black was quite tall, taller than Sirius was. Harry shifted his gaze to look up at all the portraits. They didn't even attempt to sleep. He was sure they were as curious as he was.

"Mr. Potter," he said, stopping right in front of his chair and sitting down, watching Harry with cool eyes. "You seem to be doing well with Professor Merrythought."

"Yes, sir."

He studied him for a second longer. "I never got a chance to speak to you properly when you came with her here a few weeks ago. I wanted to, but Dumbledore burst in here so improperly. I would have asked you to meet with me sooner, but I was busy with Ministry business, you see." He paused for a second. Harry wondered if Phineas Nigellus was trying to prove something to him with the Ministry, that he was more powerful and older than Harry or something like that. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

"About myself, sir?" Harry asked. He didn't know what to say, or even if he should say anything.

"Yes, about your training. You seem proficient in Defense."

"My training?" Harry thought hard for a second. He couldn't tell Phineas Nigellus that he was taught at Hogwarts. Hadn't he told Aberforth something? "I was home-schooled," he said abruptly when he remembered.

"Were you?" Phineas Nigellus said, his eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, my parents taught me everything."

He stared at him for another short amount of time. "You didn't go to a Wizarding school?"

"No, sir." He hoped Phineas Nigellus wasn't able to detect lies.

Phineas Nigellus moved his lips as if scolding someone, but no sound came out. Harry tilted his head in confusion, wondering what he was doing. Slowly, he stood up again and paced.

"Who are your parents?" Phineas Nigellus asked as if he just wondered, but Harry could hear a minute amount of venom in his voice as if waiting patiently to strike, and that reminded him of someone he hated.

"James and Lily Potter," Harry said. "They're both Muggle-born, before you ask."

"Why would you think I would ask that?" Phineas Nigellus asked, feigning surprise, but the Blacks were notorious for blood lust. Of course he would ask at some point.

"I don't know. It just seems like this school is all about Blood Status." Harry paused, feeling his anger growing. The more he watched Phineas Nigellus, the more he could see Bellatrix in him, rather than Sirius. He hadn't realized it before with the portrait, but seeing him in real life, standing, walking, and breathing caused him to realize who exactly he was talking to. He was talking to the real man, not an imitation.

"You know what I heard the other day?" Harry said. "I heard two first years, first years! insulting each other because one was a Muggle-born while the other one was pure. How is it that these kids are being taught to be prejudice at eleven years old? That poor girl was crying and the other one was laughing when he left her. Why is it so hard to accept each other? Why can't everyone feel equal?"

Phineas Nigellus mouth dropped open, appalled. "Mr. Potter, are you telling me how to run my school?"

It seemed absurd to Harry that anyone other than Dumbledore would call Hogwarts "my school." "No, that's just something I saw," he said. "But, I am saying that my parents, blood status, and abilities don't matter as much to me than if a kid has learned something from me. I got an Outstanding on my Defense Against in the Dark Arts O.W.L., and I'm sure if I took the N.E.W.T.s I would have the same grade in Defense, but I've learned more about the Wizarding world through watching how people have chosen to act in bad situations than I have in books.

"I just have to say that I don't understand why you've asked me to come talk to you. I've been doing what you hired me to do, which is help Professor Merrythought with her classes."

Phineas Nigellus seemed to be at a loss for words. He obviously didn't expect Harry to go off, but he did ask Harry to tell him about himself. That was plenty and Black didn't need to know much else.

The Headmaster returned to his seat, his eyes darker than before. "I underestimated you, Mr. Potter."

"How, sir?" Harry asked, glancing up at the portraits. The space where Phineas Nigellus's hung was empty and that seemed incredibly strange to him.

"You spoke needlessly about Blood status when I hadn't asked."

"I'm sorry, sir. I was only telling you about myself."

He continued to peer at him. "You say you haven't taken your N.E.W.T.s?"

"No, sir," Harry confirmed.

"Why not?"

"My parents died last year," Harry said, thinking quickly. "I never got to finish school."

"I'm sorry to hear that you lost them," though he didn't sound very sorry at all, especially when he went on to say: "You do realize that you're very lucky to have a job here, then? I should have looked more into you, but Dumbledore-" He stopped as if realizing he said the wrong thing. "Well, Professor Merrythought believed you efficient. I trust her judgment. It will be very hard to get a job elsewhere without a complete education."

"I know, sir."

"We're too far along in the semester to allow you to join, but if you do private studies, I don't see a problem with letting you do the N.E.W.T., even if you don't, in fact, respect me and my opinions like these children at the school never seem to do."

Harry hadn't been expecting that at all, about the N.E.. What he did expect was him to go off about kids not respecting. But, maybe Phineas Nigellus was more like Sirius than he thought, rather than the psychopath Bellatrix. Yet, still he doubted taking the N.E.W.T.s a hundred years before he should have taken them would really count. He was already a full Auror. The Ministry at that point needed Aurors too quickly to train him properly, and he guessed offing Voldemort gave them reason to believe he was good enough.

"I don't know about the N.E.W.T.s," Harry said. "But I do respect you."

"Think about it," he said, though his eyes narrowed again. "Children at this school never respect their elders. They think they're more intelligent; they know everything. But, no matter. Do you have anything else you believe in that you would like to tell me?"

Not to you, thought Harry. "No, sir."

"Then you may go. Thank you for your time."

Harry nodded and stood. "Thank you, sir."

As he left, he heard a portrait say, "Well, he's definitely outspoken." Harry only shook his head and made his way down the spiral staircase to go to breakfast.

It really wasn't that hard for Harry to believe what Sirius said three years before, how Phineas Nigellus was the least popular Headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen. But, Harry though, what if he had only gone off about how little respect kids had for adults because Harry had gone off on how much he hated Blood status? It was a possibility. Phineas wasn't stupid and Harry was sure that he would revenge him in some way if someone disrespected him. Sirius would have done the same.

In the Great Hall, Harry peered down the Gryffindor table, but the one person he wanted to talk to wasn't there. He guessed Albus was just having a slow day, maybe. Aberforth wasn't down yet, either, so, instead, he went up to Atticus Potter, who was once again sitting alone with his owl.

"Do you mind?" Harry asked.

Atticus jerked his head up, and when he saw who was there, he nodded slowly, his eyes wide. Harry sat down and reached over to pet Harold.

"He likes the crook of his wings to get scratched," Atticus said, lifting his hand up to show him. The bird cooed and then closed its eyes, fluffing his wings out. Harry smiled, thinking of Hedwig. He missed her. He liked his new owl Ariana a lot; she was nice to have around, but Harry doubted he'd ever forget Hedwig. She'd been his companion longer than anyone.

"Why have you been here alone for last couple days?" Harry asked as he scratched the owl's wings. He knew Atticus had a couple since they always talked during spell practice in class.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, yesterday my friends had to stay after class to talk to Professor Glumage, but usually I have lunch with them. Today I just got ready earlier than them. They're coming down."

"That's good," Harry said, reaching around to Harold's other wing, closet to Atticus.

He tilted his head, studying something- Harry's hand. "Why does your hand say, 'I must not tell lies'?"

Harry's heart jumped. He'd forgotten about that scar. "That's kind of hard to explain," Harry said, glancing at it. It was fading some anyway. Two years ago when he showed his hand to Rufus Scrimgeour, it was still bright red, but now it was just white, noticeable but not overly noticeable.

"Sorry, sir," Atticus said.

"It's all right. You can ask me anything, but my scars are hard to talk about."

"Do you mean like the one on your forehead, too?" he asked, only curiously.

"Yeah, especially that one," Harry said darkly.

Atticus looked away from it, as if he realized he had been staring.

Harry ate a piece of toast and turned his attention to the doors of the Hall, waiting for the Dumbledore's to come down. Really, he only wanted to talk to Albus, but Aberforth, he was something. Harry would never tell him what happened with Phineas Nigellus, but it was probably more appropriate to talk to him rather than a thirteen year old who had the same last name as him. He really shouldn't have been talking to Atticus because of that. People had to believe they weren't related and talking to him wasn't helping anything.

"Can I ask you if you played Quidditch?" Atticus asked, bringing Harry's mind back to who really was in front of him.

Harry almost said, "Yeah," but then realized what he had told Phineas Nigellus. He couldn't have played Quidditch being home-schooled. "No, but I do like it. Do you play?"

He nodded, "The Seeker was the only position open this year. The last Seeker, he was the youngest player in a long time and he started in his first year. He's playing for the Holyhead Harpies now. But I was only asking if you played because you have the same build as him."

"I've never played. You're seeker, then?" Harry said.

Atticus and Harry continued to talk about Quidditch until his friends entered the hall, laughing about something. Harry stood, said, "I should go. See you later."

Harry made his way down the Great Hall, all the while searching for Dumbledore at the Gryffindor table again. It was pointless, really, because he didn't see him at all.

"Harry."

He jumped at his name being said and there was Dumbledore, right in front of him.

"Dumbledore," Harry said, but immediately, Harry noticed something was off with his facial expression. Before he could say anything, someone behind Dumbledore said, "Excuse me," in a rude manner. Harry recognized a sixth year Slytherin boy behind him, sneering at him.

Dumbledore turned to look at him. "Oh, excuse me, Patterson," he said in a less kind tone than what he would have used in his old age. "I am Head Boy, you realize."

Patterson's sneer dropped, stepping back slightly, and then he said, "Merlin, Dumbledore, I was just asking if I could get by since you stopped right in the middle of the walkway."

"Well, you didn't have to say it so rudely."

Patterson's sneer returned. "Then, excuse me, Mr. Head Boy. May I please step passed you?"

"You may," he said coolly.

Patterson shook his head as he walked away toward the Slytherin table, glancing back with a confused look on his face.

Harry, taken aback, said, "Are you okay?" to him.

"Of course," Albus said off handedly, starting to walk again.

Harry didn't believe him and, instead, "Can I, er, talk to you? Away from the Great Hall?"

Harry led Albus out into the Entrance Hall and down the steps to the dungeons, only because Harry knew no one would be down in the dungeons so early in the morning except the Slytherins. At the first classroom door in the dungeons, Harry stopped and opened the door, and then he turned around to face him. He thought about casting the Muffiliato charm, but he doubted it would really be necessary.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"What was what?"

Harry never imagined Albus to act dumb. "With Patterson. You're rarely angry."

Albus stared down at Harry for a long time. Harry just waited, hoping he would say something, but it soon became clear that he wouldn't say what was wrong. Harry wondered what it was. Something with a teacher? He could remember countless times where he was angry with Snape or, even worse, Umbridge. He really couldn't be sure, especially so early in the morning.

"Okay," Harry said when too much time had gone by. "Well, Professor Black stopped me today."

Finally, though Harry could tell he was still angry, his facial expression changed to more or less shock. "Wait, was he asking about your family and schooling?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"He was trying to get me to tell him," he muttered.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him you weren't related to Cadmus Potter. I don't think he believed me. Nor did he seem to think it plausible that you went to Durmstrang."

Harry groaned and backed up to lean against the desk, rubbing his scar as if it was paining him even though it hadn't since May when he finally killed off Voldemort. "I told him I was homeschooled."

Dumbledore cursed, shocking Harry again. That was one thing Harry didn't think was possible coming from Dumbledore of all people. Albus began to pace for a second, back and forth down a row of desk, running a hand across a small patch of beard that he only just noticed he had. "He'd believe you more than he would me," he muttered. His anger was beginning to fade as he paced. "It is your life. What else did you tell him?"

"I told him about how much I hate blood status."

"You said what to a Black?" he asked, stopping immediately, his eyes piercing Harry.

"Blood means everything to Phineas Nigellus and I don't think that's good for Hogwarts."

"Exactly, Harry! You don't lecture him about that! He thinks of nothing else but purity of the blood. Do you have any idea what he said to me when he talked to me two days ago? He said, 'Muggleborns at Durmstrang? If I had it my way-' Do you understand what he meant, Harry?"

"Yeah, of course I do," Harry said. "He'd rather have what Slytherin wanted for Hogwarts rather than what the other three founders did."

"Exactly. He doesn't care about equality. As long as he gets what he wants, he'll be happy. That is a destructive way of looking at the world, thinking only about what you want. When I become something, I'd do what is best for the Wizarding world."

Harry felt his eyebrows raise, noting he used 'when' instead of 'if.' It reminded Harry of how the older Dumbledore always mentioned that he was cleverer than most men, although he apologized for it. This time, however, he was so sure that he would become something. Something great because he knew he was more intelligent than everyone else. "Yeah?"

He nodded and sat up on top of the desk behind him, but he didn't elaborate. "What else did you say to him?"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "I told him that I care more about experience than what I learn in a books. I didn't even take the N.E.W.T.s and I'm still an Auror. I mean, I didn't tell him I was an Auror. I can't remember exactly what I said."

Albus jerked his head to him. "How did you manage to become an Auror if you didn't take your tests?"

Harry rubbed his scar again. "I… er, well, I'd rather not say."

Dumbledore let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand over his short beard again.

"Why are you so angry right now?" Harry asked.

He shook his head and there was a short break as if he was debating whether or not to tell him. "My brother. Do you have any siblings, Harry?"

"No."

"Then you wouldn't understand. Aberforth can be infuriating." He stood up and began to pace again. "Last night he tried to hit me when I did nothing wrong. This morning was even worse. He was lurking in a corridor off the Gryffindor Tower and he tried to hex me! I don't understand what goes on in his head."

"I don't think he had a very good day yesterday," Harry said.

"Of course he didn't," Albus said. "He tried to ask Alice Hornby if she would go to Hogsmeade with him. She turned him down, of course. I don't know why he bothers. There are more important problems than girls."

"Is that what he did?" Harry asked. He finally understood why the drawing of the girl in Aberforth's journal was so familiar. He'd just seen her twenty minutes before. "He wouldn't tell me."

Albus shrugged, standing still right next to Harry. "He's very stubborn."

"I noticed."

"You're very stubborn, too, you realize. You refuse to tell me anything about yourself." Albus's anger seemed to have faded completely, once he told Harry why he had been mad, and now he just seemed tired.

Harry wasn't sure what to say about that. "I can't say anything," he finally decided on. "If you knew anything, then, well, the future wouldn't be the same."

"You do you know when you say that, it just makes me even more curious."

"Yeah, I know."

"The curiosity leads me to believe that you're important to the future… I can't believe you haven't taken your N.E.W.T.s. What did Professor Black say to that?"

"He said I could take them if I wanted to, but I don't think-"

"You should," he said. "They're important."

"Will they honestly be good for me to take now? I mean, the time stamp will say 1898. I'm from 1998. How will that help me?"

"Well, are you friendly with the Minister?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the friendly ex-Auror ran through Harry's head. "Yeah- Wait, you're trying to get information out of me!"

He smiled kindly, though his eyes twinkled with something like mischief than kindness like usual. "No, I was just asking. If you are, then you could always go to him and explain the situation if you trust him enough."

Harry refused to say anything about that, though in his head he debated that. Kingsley Shacklebolt was trustworthy, very trustworthy. He was part of the Order and a friend of Dumbledore. He might think Harry mad at first, but if anyone would believe him, it would be Kinsgley.

Albus reached into his pocket for a watch. "I'd better go. Class starts in five minutes."

"Right. Me too," Harry said, pushing off the desk to stand straight. At least he'd gotten to talk to him for a few minutes, to talk about what Phineas had said. He was sure if Dumbledore hadn't been there, then Harry would have gone mad without having someone trustworthy to talk to. Well, he guessed he could have talked to Merrythought, but if it weren't for Dumbledore, then he wouldn't have known her.

They began out of the classroom and up to the Entrance Hall.

They departed then, Albus going toward the Great Hall, but before they were too far away, Albus said, "Oh, and Harry? I apologize about my behavior this morning. It was completely inappropriate."

"Maybe you should apologize to Patterson instead of me," he responded.

Albus only shook his head and waved Harry off.

But as Albus and Harry went on with their day, down in the dungeons, one figure was standing, white-faced behind a door of the boys' bathroom.

* * *

A/N: Please don't kill me for making Dumbledore angry in this chapter. He can have bad days, too, you know?

But, yeah, this is shorter than normal. I wanted it longer, but that was a good place to stop, I think.

There will be a new perspective next chapter. Can you guess whose?


	12. 12: Preinterlude

**Chapter 12: Pre(inter)lude**

_September 6, 1998_

An old man held a pocket watch and watched as the hands ticked slowly around the face, marking each passing minute. The watch was ancient, almost as old as him, but that was only indicated with numerous scratches lining the glass and one large dent in the side. Only he knew the exact age of it, though. He'd gotten the watch a hundred years before, right before his fifteenth birthday, the last birthday present he'd ever received from his mother.

The reason, though, why Aberforth Dumbledore held the pocket watch up in a sitting room above a bar wasn't the fact that he was dreading his 115th birthday in a day. No, he had been dreading the coming day at one o'clock in the afternoon for almost one hundred years. Not one day had gone by since he had learned of what happened that he hadn't thought of September 7, 1998: the day that Harry Potter- the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, and now the Savior- would disappear.

Well, maybe disappear. Aberforth wasn't sure what would happen when Harry would slip back in time, one hundred years. The only reason why he was so nervous lied in the fact that he didn't have a very good concept of time. Would anything change the instant Harry left or would all remain the same? He had no idea. The concept of time-travel confused him and he wasn't sure if the time was still the same as the past Harry had left. He was also scared of what would happen when Harry returned or if he would return. Could he have died during the way back? When would he come back, anyway, a year from the moment he left, before he left? Aberforth literally had no idea and he felt confused.

He sighed, tapping the side of the watch with the dent against his chair.

"One hour, Ariana," Aberforth said, glancing at his watch again anxiously and then at the portrait of a young blonde girl above his fireplace. "I mean, one hour until September 7th. Then I have to wait thirteen more hours, but you know what-" he paused and frowned at the same time the portrait of his sister did. She knew that her favorite brother was dreading something, and he was, obviously, so much so that he had shut down the Hog's Head hours earlier than normal.

Aberforth was a tough guy, tough enough, but there were some things he just had to think about for a while without distractions. He rarely closed down the Hog's Head. In fact, the last time he did was the night after his older brother's funeral, when most witches and wizards had already left Hogsmeade and mourned the one who they regarded as the "Greatest Wizard of the Age." Aberforth always scoffed at Albus's given title. Ridiculous, even if he was brilliant. At the time, Albus's death had sunk in finally, and he just had to close it down. Right now, he was nervous and remembering too much. He was so distracted that he couldn't be distracted by anyone else.

Aberforth really didn't regret much at all. Actually, he only had a few regrets in his life. Two of them involved the only people he had ever closed down the Hog's Head for: Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. The regret involved the time a hundred years and three weeks ago.

He could remember that day better than any other day in his life, only because it was the biggest mistake he'd ever made in his whole life, the one mistake that made him swear everyday that he wouldn't meddle in things that weren't meant to be meddled in. That had always been his reason to Albus about why he wouldn't become more involved in the war that had ended just months before. Aberforth felt so much regret about the past, especially dealing with Harry Potter. He physically couldn't become more involved than with only few instances that he just had to just because of what he had done.

He told Albus frequently before he died that meddling in with Voldemort and Harry Potter was a bad idea. But, he'd never told Albus the reason why he didn't want to meddle in things, of course. When it came to Harry Potter, the boy was a defiant fool, even if he was loyal and he could understand why Albus trusted him.

But, that day, Aberforth made a terrible mistake because he had meddled in Albus and Harry's dealings. He shouldn't have tried to get involced in them again, right before Harry defeated Voldemort. He only realized that mistake later, that he told Harry to give up what Albus had in store for him. Though Aberforth knew the boy wasn't going to die, by instinct he had to warn him because he knew his brother more than anyone else and Aberforth could remember countless times over the year Harry was in the past that he had warned him about Albus.

Merlin, he hated thinking about that day, though. He could remember it all too well.

"Ariana? Do you want to hear a story?" Aberforth said, reaching across the table for his old, black leather journal Albus had given him for his fifteenth birthday. He flipped through it until he found a drawing, one he did of Harry after the incident with Alice Hornby and the detention with the Grindylows.

"Oh, yes," the portrait said sweetly, her bright blue eyes focusing on her brother.

"It's about a boy," he said, leaning back in his chair and glancing at his watch one more time. Five minutes had passed. "He wasn't much older than you, and he made a terrible mistake."

* * *

"My God," Gordon Salisbury said early one morning. "Dumbledore, stop leaving your clothes all over the place. I just slipped on one of your putrid socks."

Aberforth tried not to sneer at the word Putrid.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said sarcastically, looking up from tying his shoelaces. "I'll be sure to put down a magical barrier next time so my socks don't end up under your feet next time."

Gordon laughed, but not good-naturedly. It was commonly known in the fifth years that Aberforth and Gordon hated each other, actually, really, everyone hated Aberforth, but he could never figure out why.

"Would you even know the spell for that?" Gordon asked just as sarcastically.

"No," he said, standing and grabbing his school bag. He noticed his three other roommates look between each other, but none of them said anything.

"Your brother probably would, why not you?"

Aberforth grabbed the door handle, then turned to glare at the other boy. "Do I look like my brother? Please do not assume I know a spell my brother knows. He knows some mad stuff."

"You're dumbing yourself down, you know that, right?"

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not, trust me," but he chose not to elaborate at all. Instead, he left the room and when he got down to the Common Room, he spotted Albus talking to a seventh year girl. His eyes twinkled and he smiled as the girl told him something, practically batting her eyelashes at him. Aberforth scoffed at that girl's ill attempt. Albus was not interested that. His interests laid only in magic and theories and being brilliant.

Not fair, he caught himself saying in his head. He thought about Alice Hornby again and how Albus said, "I'm sorry," the night before in the most trifling way possible when he mentioned his failed attempt with Alice.

Aberforth felt his face blush as he thought of that again. That had been most embarrassing.

He looked at his brother again. He only cared about brilliance. He cared about nothing else, not even his own sister. Aberforth, on the other hand, couldn't care less about being smart or powerful. In fact, he could distinctly remember never being jealous of Albus like he felt at the moment.

There was a lot that Aberforth could have looked up to Albus to, but for some reason, he just didn't care. Even when they were younger and Albus outdid him in everything, he didn't mind much.

He could remember one day when Aberforth was about five, they had gone down to the creek on Mould-on-the-Wold. Albus had picked up a piece of bark, closed his eyes real tight, and then with a pop! the piece of bark changes shape, transfigured into a wooden toy boat. Aberforth only was creative enough to skip rocks across the shallow water, but he had fun with it.

Albus was powerful from a young age, able to do complex magic at seven years old, always wrote his letters and read what he was told to read and much more. Aberforth only liked to tend to the sheep his parents kept and playing games with his sister. While Albus was fascinated by everything, Aberforth couldn't have cared less.

What he did care about, though, was life. Instead of transfiguring bark into boats or dandelions into marigolds, Aberforth often chased after rabbits, just to hold it, and feel the soft fur or else feed the goats. He cared about his sister and his family and animals. His favorites classes were Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures because he could take care of plants and animals. That excited him. Albus only liked Transfiguration and that was too abstract for Aberforth to understand fully.

That was why it was so unfair, that when Aberforth liked people, Albus was the one that got to talk to a pretty girl, who actually wanted to flirt with the one guy that didn't care for it at all.

As Aberforth left the portrait hole, he wanted to get his mind off that. It was just making him angry. Instead, he wondered about the new teacher, Merrythought's assistant. But, of course, quickly, that turned back to Albus because his brother was interested in Potter.

There was something very strange about Mr. Potter. And Aberforth knew that Albus was only interested in him because he was obviously powerful. Potter was hiding something. He was reluctant to say much and he couldn't have lived anywhere but England, his accent was too strong. He was less dapper than anyone he'd seen before, like he'd grown up in very informal setting. His teaching style, too, was less formal. He didn't seem so set on memorizing theories, but on experience instead.

But, that was about all Aberforth could think up about him, besides the fact that he seem beaten, scarred on his face and hands and almost like he'd been malnourished for a while. And that, somehow, he was already familiar with Albus and Aberforth. He could remember what Merrythought and him were saying before he'd walked into the classroom the night before: "Do you know Aberforth where you're from?"

"Sort of." Potter had said, Aberforth only catching his name. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, listening closely.

"But you've met him?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Does he still act the same way?"

"He's still pretty stubborn."

"What about Albus?"

"He's, er… a little calmer, I guess."

"He's quite energetic now, isn't he?" Merrythought said.

"Yeah."

"Are you not comfortable talking about him?"

"Er-"

That was when Aberforth decided to enter the classroom. He actually tried hard not to think about all that, maybe it was nothing, but it seemed like more. Where was the 'from' Merrythought was talking about?

The portrait hole sung open behind him. He glanced behind him and when he realized who it was, he turned down a corridor to get away from his brother who now trailed a few feet behind him. He stood, leaning against the wall, right when Albus stopped in Aberforth's view.

He was still talking to the girl. "I'll see you tonight," she said, her voice sweet. "For my transfiguration tutoring?"

"Of course," Albus said, nodding curtly. "Have a good day, Suzie."

Aberforth caught her smile widely, then, turn on her heel with a small bounce and walk away.

Once her footsteps disappeared, Albus shook his head with a sigh. See, he didn't care at all about the girl. He was frustrated! That was a frustrated sigh!

That just made Aberforth angry and he pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, but Albus was too fast. He spun around and the spell deflected off a barrier he'd put up with only a wave of his hand.

Aberforth growled.

"What in the world, Aberforth?" Albus said, his eyes piercing. "What have you been playing at?"

Aberforth only gave a small shrug and spun around, stalking down the corridor. Why did he have to be the one who had the Albus as a brother? Couldn't he have been an only child?

Aberforth went the long way down to the Great Hall, taking the longest corridors possible, just to avoid Albus.

When he did get down to the Great Hall, Albus wasn't even there. He stared around for a second, thankful for that, and then grabbed a couple pieces of toast from a basket. He didn't even sit down. He had a couple potions to tend to.

As he made his way down, though, he heard something.

"Exactly," said a voice in the first classroom on the right. He stopped, recognizing his brother's voice. Immediately, he wondered what his brother was doing down there, in the dungeons, when Aberforth knew for a fact that he didn't have Potions until much later in the day.

"He doesn't care about equality," Albus continued on as Aberforth stepped to the side and went into the boys bathroom across the hall. He could still hear him. "As long as he gets what he wants, he'll be happy. That is a destructive way of looking at the world, thinking only about what you want. When I become something, I'd do what is best for the Wizarding world."

"Yeah?"

Aberforth blinked, somehow not at all surprised to hear Potter's voice there, as well. He didn't say anything else, though, and he seemed just as enthused as Aberforth felt at Albus's last words. Those were horrible.

"What else did you say to him?"

"I told him that I care more about experience than what I learn in a books. I didn't even take the N.E.W.T.s and I'm still an Auror. I mean, I didn't tell him I was an Auror. I can't remember exactly what I said."

Aberforth choked on a bite of toast he'd just took a bite of. Potter was an Auror? No wonder he looked so battle scarred, but, wait, didn't he say he was 18? That was way too young, and anyway, how had he not taken the N.E.W.T.s? There was something really strange about him.

"How did you manage to become an Auror if you didn't take your tests?" Aberforth could have wondered the same question.

"I… er, well, I'd rather not say."

Well, that just frustrated Aberforth, and apparently Albus, too, because Aberforth swore he heard Albus groan.

"Why are you so angry right now?" Potter asked.

There was a short pause. Had Albus been angry? "My brother." Aberforth choked on another bite of toast, surprised somehow. "Do you have any siblings, Harry?"

"No."

"Then you wouldn't understand. Aberforth can be infuriating." A pain went through the back of Aberforth's throat. "Last night he tried to hit me when I did nothing wrong. This morning was even worse. He was lurking in a corridor off the Gryffindor Tower and he tried to hex me! I don't understand what goes on in his head."

"I don't think he had a very good day yesterday," Potter said. Was he actually defending him?

"Of course he didn't," Albus said. "He tried to ask Alice Hornby if she would go to Hogsmeade with him. She turned him down, of course. I don't know why he bothers. There are more important problems than girls."

Aberforth dropped half the toast he had left. How could he tell him that? What would possess him to tell something private like that? He felt the blood in his face drain in shock from that, so embarrassed that he couldn't think properly.

"You're very stubborn, too, you realize." Aberforth caught what Albus was saying again, still wondering how Albus could ruin his trust like that. Well, actually, when he really thought about it that was just like Albus to do. "You refuse to tell me anything about yourself."

"I can't say anything. If you knew anything, then, well, the future wouldn't be the same."

Wait, the future? Aberforth thought. He couldn't be a seer.

"You do you know when you say that, it just makes me even more curious."

"Yeah, I know."

"The curiosity leads me to believe that you're important to the future." Important to the future? That couldn't be what Potter was hiding, or could it? Albus usually wasn't wrong. "I can't believe you haven't taken your N.E.W.T.s. What did Professor Black say to that?"

"He said I could take them if I wanted to, but I don't think-"

"You should," he said. "They're important."

"Will they honestly be good for me to take now? I mean, the time stamp will say 1898. I'm from 1998. How will that help me?"

Aberforth's face drained with the rest of the blood it had left. Potter had to be mistaken. Had to. There was no way that he could be from 1998. That was impossible.

But, when Aberforth really thought about it, his accent was off and he did seem like he'd come from a entirely different England, based on his manner. And, in a way, what Aberforth had heard the day before actually, weirdly, matched that, where Potter was from. Could that possibly mean the future, a century in the future? He wondered if only Merrythought and Albus knew where he was from.

Obviously Black didn't know, based on what the two were talking about.

But, Albus knew. A seventeen year old knew, one who thought he had to be involved in every important matter because he was the Headboy and the smartest wizard at the school.

Albus knew and Potter trusted him, someone who was younger than him.

Aberforth stared blankly at the door for a few minutes, forgetting to listen to their conversation. How was it fair that Albus knew, or, well, the most important question was, did Potter know Albus where he was from. The conversation with Merrythought came back to him. He was asked if he knew the Dumbledores and he said yes.

Of course Potter knew him, enough to trust him to keep the secret.

"I'd better go. Class starts in five minutes."

Aberforth's thoughts ceased. He leaned in closer to the door.

"Right. Me too," Potter said. The door of the classroom across the hall squeaked open and then closed. He could hear a pair of heels clicking against stone and a softer pair mixing with Albus's footsteps. Eventually, they were both gone.

Aberforth, still white in the face, slid down to the floor once he realized how stiff he had been standing.

Harry Potter was from the future and Albus knew, but Black didn't, thought Aberforth. Black, who hired him, didn't know.

Suddenly, a feeling erupted in his chest, a way to get back at Albus for telling Potter about his crush, for being so arrogant, and for being able to do whatever he wanted. Aberforth resented all that and Albus thought of himself as superior to all.

Aberforth smiled and stood up, brushing off his robes, and then went off to Potions, wondering when to do what he was planning.

* * *

The old man paused in his story for a second, glancing up at Ariana with soft, blue eyes.

"What happened next?" Ariana asked, her blue eyes matching her brother's.

Aberforth felt a pain in his chest and shook his head, bringing his large fingers up to his temple.

"A terrible thing," he muttered, but didn't go on. Instead, he picked up his watch again. Thirty minutes until midnight, it read.

"Brother," Ariana said. "Tell me?"

The thought of it constricted his voice. Meddling, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to say that word out loud. He hated what that meant for his fifteen-year-old self's future.

"Please?" Ariana pleaded, her eyes bright. "I like this story."

"Why do you?" he asked, glancing up at her. "There's so much eavesdropping."

She smiled sweetly, almost like she was ignoring his statement. "I like your stories."

Aberforth picked up his journal again, for he had cast it aside halfway through, and flipped through the pages again. He stopped on a page with a drawing of a tank. He'd animated it, so the two figures of the grindylows were quarrelling, pushing and shoving and trying to bite each other. Neither one of the water demons ever won; it was a continuous brawl, never to finish.

"Please, brother?"

He glanced at his pocket watch again. Only two minutes had passed.

"I have to warn you, though," he said, looking straight into her eyes. "It's not a happy ending."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Aberforth knew that Albus had a class before lunch, Herbology, actually, so when Aberforth got out of class, he waited outside, watching as the seventh year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs made their way up the lawn. Albus, being the tallest, was easiest to spot with Elphias striding along next to him.

Aberforth tugged on the strap of his bookbag, and with a smirk, made his way toward his brother.

"Hi, Albus," Aberforth said kindly.

"Ab," he said, glancing at Elphias next to him, his eyebrows raised.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice polite.

Albus's eyes narrowed and pierced Aberforth, but he said nothing besides, "Of course. Excuse me, Elphias."

Aberforth smirked as Albus watched Elphias walk away with the rest of his class mates. Then, he straightened his features and looked up to his brother. Aberforth hoped he would grow more. He wasn't too far from Albus's height.

"What is it?" Albus asked as they walked slowly down the path leading to the lake. "I have to say, you're acting very strange today."

"Am I?" Aberforth asked.

"Very much so," he told him, his eyes still narrowed.

Aberforth shook his head, looking away from his brother's gaze. He knew what Albus could do.

"Look, Ab-" he said, stopping.

"No, you look," Aberforth said, pulling himself up to his full height, since he realized he had been slouching somewhat, but that was normal for him to slouch some. He was so close to eyelevel when he stood straight. So close. "I know there's something odd going on."

"Odd?" Albus asked as if there wasn't anything at all wrong, but Aberforth wasn't buying it. He'd heard him and Potter.

"Yes, weird. There's something odd about Potter! And no one knows the truth, except you. You think you can get away with it, but you can't."

"I haven't any-"

"Yes, you do. Potter's from the future!"

Aberforth had no tact, none at all and he knew it, but might as well get to the point early on, rather than playing games like Albus was.

Albus's eyes pierced him, but he wasn't able to hide how nonplused he was. "You're going mad-"

Aberforth let out a, "Ha!" and said, "No, you're the one going mad if you think that. I heard you talking to him this morning and he said he was from 1998! That's a hundred years in the future! Don't tell me I'm going mad."

Albus glanced around him for a second, making sure no one was around, and then stepped closer to Aberforth.

"Don't tell anyone, you got that?" he said sternly, staring right at him, his eyes more transfixed than before. "Don't you dare."

"Don't act like you're my father," Aberforth said. "Because last time I checked, you were my brother."

"I'm as good as, seeing as he's dead!"

Aberforth shook his head. "You're so full of yourself, you know that? You need to stop."

Albus shook his head, then turned on his heel and started up the path again. "I don't want to discuss this."

Aberforth resisted reaching for his wand. "Don't you think you should be more cautious to let me go when I know what Potter is?"

Albus turned again and surveyed Aberforth for a second. Aberforth could only feel triumph. "You wouldn't tell anyone."

"How do you know?" Aberforth said, smirking.

"You wouldn't."

Aberforth titled his head up, still smiling. "How do you know?" he repeated. "Come on, I know Black would never approve of that. He'd ship Potter off to Azkaban if he knew. We can't have a time-traveler here, can we, when he knows what will happen. And you talking to him… You wouldn't want to ruin the future."

"This is the future," Albus said, shaking his head. "This most likely was meant to happen, you realize. The future probably is still the same way as it should be.

"That's what you think to cover up what you're trying to do. I know you, Albus. You're trying to get information about the future, aren't you?" When he refused to answer or even look at him, Aberforth thought for a second. Maybe he needed to change his direction. "But, how do you know any of that for sure, that the future will still be the same?"

"I've read time travel theories," Albus said, clasping his hands behind his back, but he left it at that.

"So, if I just happen to let slip to Black or even Garside- because we all know he's friendly with Black- who Potter is, then that'll be the future that it was meant to be?"

Albus's face remained fixed, but still, Aberforth swore his face lost some of its color. "Aberforth, I don't understand the hostility you've been showing the last two days. These are empty threats and you know it. What are you trying to avenge me for?"

Aberforth couldn't stop himself and, his face blushing, yelled out, "You told Potter about what happened with Alice! That's not fair. I told you in confidence!"

Albus dropped his hands, surprised. "You're mad about that? Come on, Aberforth, schoolwork is so much more important for your-"

"Future, I know," he gruffed out. "It's not fair! I mean, that girl, Suzie, she was fainting at your feet and you don't give a da-"

"Language," Albus reprimanded, his eyes growing dark.

Aberforth huffed. "I know you don't care about gir-"

"You shouldn't care as much as you do," Albus said. "Ab, you're fifteen. Stop with the nonsense and focus on your O.W.L.s, all right? We'll discuss this later. I need to get something to eat. I only had pumpkin juice this morning."

He started to walk away again, leaving Aberforth standing there, fuming. But, then he turned back. "Please don't tell anyone about Harry. His secret has to remain hidden. He can't be found out."

Aberforth huffed as Albus turned again and continued up the pathway, back up to the castle. Aberforth, though, didn't follow him. Instead, he went down to the lake's edge and stared out toward the still water. He could imagine those Grindylows from the tank in detention, how they should have belonged in the lake instead. That was their home. He pulled out his journal and began to draw their violent behavior from the night before, being careful to get the details right.

Aberforth, really, felt frustrated. He couldn't win any battle with Albus, he knew that. His brother was able to show him up with words. But, Aberforth had free will, and Albus only said not to tell anyone. He didn't even make him promise him. He even said "please" for goodness sake.

His mind was already made up.

As he tapped his wand against the parchment, the Grindylows began to twist and jab each other continuously, never stopping. He smiled, proud of his artwork, and then stood up. He looked down at his feet for a flat rock, but saw a twig that had fallen from a tree to the side of the lake. He picked it up, tapped his wand against it, thinking hard about a boat, but it only remained a twig. Frustrated, he dropped it to the ground and stepped on it, breaking it in two.

At some point, he was going to Black. Someday. And convince him that what he was saying was true.

He could do that, couldn't he?

He huffed, of course he could. Of course.

Then, he made his way up to the castle, his mind completely set.

* * *

"And that's what he regretted," Aberforth said, talking to Ariana's portrait. "That he was so sure he could destroy his brother."

"Is that why it's an unhappy ending?" Ariana asked, her voice light.

"Yeah," he said, his voice gruff. "He shouldn't have meddled in Al's reasoning. He shouldn't have made up his mind so quickly."

"That wasn't the end, though, was it?" Ariana said.

Aberforth shook his head sadly, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly. "No, not at all. That was only the beginning."

Aberforth glanced down at his pocket watch again. As he fingered the dent in the side, he watched as the hand turned around the face. He waited, his breath batted as it landed on midnight. He closed his eyes tightly. Today was the day. There were still hours to wait for Potter to disappear, but the day had arrived, finally.

"There's so much more," Aberforth said sadly. "So much more. A hundred years worth of stories involving Al and Ab. Ab could have done so many things differently, you know."

"Like what?"

Aberforth bit his bottom lip, then once he realized what was happening in his head, he quickly cleared his throat, which came out as a gruff growl. He stood up and paced for a bit, then went to his window. From there, he could see the castle, only able to be seen from the light of the waning moon.

His brother still resided there, most likely just a skeleton, but still he was there. Aberforth could have done so much differently for his brother, but the events that had gone on were all controlled by how stupid he had been that year. Everyone's an idiot at fifteen, he could remember Potter saying during the summer they'd spent together in the past.

Like what, Ariana had asked.

He took in another breath. He pulled the curtains of the window shut. And he sat back in his chair, pulling his watch out one more time.

So many regrets, all caused because he his head had gotten too big to think he could defy his brother.

He hated what he had done.

Like what.

He took in another breath, thinking about the Grindylows again, how they continued to fight and fight and never resolve anything.

Finally, Aberforth answered her, his voice breaking.

"Everything, Ariana. I regret everything."

* * *

_A/N: I meant to get this done a week ago, but… yeah, that didn't happen. Sorry about that. I'm done with mid-terms, though. So, yay._

_This is the longest chapter so far, which I'm pretty proud of. Aberforth's point of view will be around again, I think, but not as much as Albus and Harry. Hopefully this chapter makes sense... Aberforth's motives are kind of complex._


	13. 13: The Second Coming

_Disclaime_r: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter.

* * *

C**hapter 13: The Second Coming**

* * *

A month passed and Albus was thankful that a day hadn't come when his brother had told someone Harry's secret. Albus, of course, told Merrythought and she promised she'd keep an eye on him, but Albus heard nothing else from her. Actually, he barely saw any of her or Harry, but he did keep a watchful, preying eye on Aberforth in the common room, in the Great Hall, and the hallways whenever they passed each other. Aberforth, like most always, was alone and never acknowledged Albus's existence.

Mostly, though, Albus worked on two projects: one for Flamel with the tiny device that captured light from candles, streetlamps, or really anything that gave off light. It was simple, but actually difficult to make. He often cursed himself, wondering what possessed him to make something such as that, but he had to make something involving fire and that was the only project Flamel had approved him of.

The other project was Harry Potter. That scar Harry had on his forehead bothered Albus, the fact that he hadn't taken his N.E.W.T.s and was still an Auror bothered him, and it also didn't help his wonderment that he was in with the Minister of Magic or that Harry knew Albus in his future life. Honestly, he couldn't think of much reason why he had any of those things. To Albus it seemed almost as implausible to figure out as figuring out what went on in his little brother's head.

Albus spent a lot of time reading books about curse scars. He was sure an awful curse had hit him at some point, but he couldn't pin-point it without more information about Harry. Each time Albus tried to talk about it with him, though, he'd refuse.

At one point around early October, both him and Albus had been helping Merrythought find a Boggart when Harry said, "Boggarts was the first thing we did in third year."

"Was it really?" Albus asked as he crawled under a desk with his wand illuminated. "Texts must be different now."

"I think-"

Abruptly, the temperature in the room dropped and there was a loud rattling noise. An image of his father came into his head, but he shook it off, moving to see what had just happened.

There, Harry stood in the middle of an empty classroom with a Dementor standing right in front of him, stepping closer.

"Riddikulus!" he yelled out and the Dementor changed quickly. Instead of wearing a black flowing robe, instead, it wore a purple suit. Albus, as he looked at it, thought the suit would have been quite sensible if it wasn't on such a horrible creature.

Quickly, though, Albus conjured a box and as Harry swished his wand, the Dementor swirled into the box, trapped until the Boggart would be released again.

"Your worse fear is a Dementor?" Albus asked as he clasped the box together.

"Er, yeah, it is," he said, looking paler than normal.

"Can I ask why?"

Harry hesitated, running his hand over the back of his neck as if he had an itch there. "Well, it brings back memories."

"So, your memories are what you fear the most?" Dumbledore could only guess that some horrible things happened in Harry's life, but Harry didn't elaborate.

He only nodded his head. "I guess so," he muttered. "Let's get this to Merrythought, shall we?"

The whole ordeal with the Boggart frustrated Albus. He was growing tired after two months of learning only a dash of what Harry had gone through in his past. Harry Potter had to be the most interesting person Albus had met and to have him deny telling him anything about what was going on only sparked his interest further.

Even as he worked on his project for Flamel, his mind always wandered off to Harry. The complexities of the project seemed so large for such a small thing, just like how Harry's young age seemed to be the most simple thing about him, when he was, in fact, very complex, too.

Even through his wonderment about Harry and the amount of work he had, still, in the back of his mind, he knew that Aberforth would crack eventually. Aberforth had been a blabber mouth before, always running to their parents about something Albus had done that he shouldn't have been doing like using magic outside of school sometimes. He knew for a fact, too, that Aberforth had called people out to teacher's too, as if he wanted to be a prefect just as much as Albus had been.

The thought that Aberforth could do that, he hated to admit, terrified him. Aberforth would not keep his mouth shut. He had deliberately let him off to try to quell Aberforth's anger toward him, but he had a feeling that something about his speech down by the lake wasn't enough, not foolproof.

Albus needed to find out as much as he could about Harry. He had to before Aberforth did anything at all.

But, of course, that would not be so simple, either.

* * *

As Halloween approached, Harry Potter was getting adjusted to being Merrythought's assistant. He attended most classes of hers and he was always trapped in amazement over her lessons. He understood now why so many people had called the teacher's Dumbledore had were some of the greatest. She really was a very strong teacher and listening to her lectures and helping her demonstrate actually taught him even more than he already knew.

Harry really only had experience and a handful of real Defense lessons to his name.

He realized he still had so much to learn about Defense as he listened to her speak about magical creatures and different spells that he actually hadn't even been able to try before. Harry easily caught on fast enough that it seemed Merrythought didn't sense much about his inability for some spells when he first started trying to learn them, sometimes even during class.

Harry found a routine throughout the day, too. He went down to breakfast every morning and he'd sit with either Atticus or Dumbledore. Sometimes he saw Aberforth, but that was rare. He seemed to be conspicuously absent for the past month. He came to class, but he always seemed to be staring only at Harry throughout the entire class, as if he was trying hard to read his mind. But, Harry had long since realized the feeling of someone looking into his thoughts and Aberforth was certainly not there.

After breakfast, he'd go on to read over the lesson that Merrythought gave him to look over so he'd know exactly what spells they'd do in all the classes for that day. Then after all the classes, he'd go up to his office and look over his Marauder's Map for a while, a habit he'd picked up after he'd spent so much time staring at Ginny's name while he was still out camping. He often watched the Dumbledores' names or tried to see if he recognized any names.

After that, he'd go talk to Merrythought for a while or sit on in detentions.

It was probably the most relaxed Harry had ever been in his life because there were no threats on his life. No one but Albus, the Flamels (who sent him weekly updates on the potion via Fawkes), and Merrythought knew where he came from, and no one really new he was famous. He was just normal and he liked that.

But, he missed home. He missed his friends and his godson.

He might have been learning a lot, but he still wanted to be home.

* * *

"I guess your brother decided not to show," Elphias said on Halloween night. It was halfway through the feast and Albus was having a great time. He loved Halloween because it was one of those nights that the hosts told legendary stories and people seemed genuinely happy to put off school for a while to come down and enjoy the feast.

But mention of his brother took away that. Albus looked up and down the table and saw him nowhere.

"Doesn't he usually like Halloween?"

"He sure does," Albus said, but he only waved his hand, casting it off, though, really he was suddenly a little worried. "I'm sure he's probably snuck down to the Greenhouses to tend to his plants. I've noticed he's been doing that lately."

"Why haven't you stopped him? I mean, you are Head Boy."

Albus glanced up to the Head Table subtly, toward Harry sitting up there in between Professor Merrythought and, to his surprise, Garside. Harry didn't normally sit at the front, but he guessed today was an exception because it was a feast. All teachers were required to attend the feasts under Professor Black's ruling.

To be honest, Albus felt the need to be cautious around Aberforth. He didn't want to believe that such a thing would happen, that he would tell the truth about Harry. But, he felt the need to not rule over Aberforth too much. It was a cowardly thing to do, but for Harry's sake and Albus's sanity, he had to keep Aberforth's temper toward him at a comfortable level.

"He can do what he wants," as long as it isn't about Harry, Dumbledore thought.

Thankfully, though, James Connery, a sixth year said, "Hey, Albus, look at this," and he was distracted enough by a caricature of a witch who had been causing trouble in the Ministry that he actually started laughing again and found time to ignore the thoughts of his brother for a while longer.

It was odd for Harry to be up at the High Table for the Halloween feast. This was the first time he actually sat with the teachers in the almost two months he'd been at Hogwarts and to be able to see everyone and be actually be apart of the teacher's felt even more surreal than killing off Voldemort. Harry never attended the staff meetings, nor did he ever feel apart of them all. He was sure this was the first time more than half the teacher's had ever met him.

"So, Mr. Potter," said the teacher to his right. On his left was Merrythought, who turned her head slowly when the teacher next to him spoke.

"Yes, sir?" he asked wary because of the expression on Merrythought's face, which seemed to be a cross between a warning for him and a warning for the other professor.

"This is the first time we have met, I believe?" he asked coolly.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said. "I'm sorry, but I don't know your name."

He raised an eyebrow as if offended that someone wouldn't know who he was. "Rolf Garside, Transfiguaration professor."

Garside stuck out his withered hand and Harry took it after a moment of hesitation the hair on the back of his neck stuck up. He hoped he just took it that Harry was shy, not vigilant of him. Constant Vigilance.

"Harry Potter," he said politely.

"It's good to finally meet you, Mr. Potter," he said. It was nothing Harry hadn't heard before, but it still chilled him somewhat. No one really should have thought it was good to meet him when he was not meant to be there. "I've definitely heard some good things about you. All the students seem to think highly of you."

Harry glanced at Merrythought, surprised. "Really? I didn't know."

"Of course," he said with a smile, his long dark hair falling across his face. He pushed it back. "You're only eighteen years old, is that rumor right? A professor's assistant right out of school is well off for you. You must have had fantastic N.E.W.T scores."

"Er, not really," Harry said, feeling his face go warm.

"Oh, nonsense, Harry!" Merrythought said, laughing. "He's being modest, Rolf. He's very smart. He picks up spells like lightening."

Garside's eyes narrowed slightly. "Lightening, you say? Speaking of, where did that-"

Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Harry looked up. It seemed to him like Aberforth was coming up to the teacher's table, maybe to ask a question to somebody.

But, then, he stopped and slowly turned to face the crowd. He silenced the whole room with the wave of his wand.

And then, Aberforth shouted something that made Harry shoot up in his seat.

* * *

Aberforth Dumbledore smirked.

He could see his brother chuckling along with a mousy haired boy who held a book between them as he edged in through one of the side doors of the Great Hall. He couldn't see anything other than Albus, not the piles of sweets on the table or the floating lanterns above everyone's heads or even the ghosts milling about, telling stories about how they died. Or, in fact, even Harry Potter, the time-traveler who didn't belong there.

All he could focus on was Albus' stupid, supposed perfectness. He could just imagine Albus laughing at a wrong formula in the book, laughing at someone's mistake. Aberforth's smirk turned into a sneer as he closed the door behind him and walked carefully down the side of the Slytherin table. Nobody took notice of him, though. No one looked up at him, but he hardly cared at all.

He stepped up onto the platform of the Head table. For a second he took his eyes off his brother and glanced at Potter, but he wasn't even looking. Professor Black was, though. The man's eyes narrowed as if unsure about what Aberforth was doing up there, so near to the teachers, or, really, who he even was. Aberforth didn't expect Black to know him, though. No one ever did know him, people who he'd even been in classes with over the full four and a half years at Hogwarts stumbled on his name at times. Sure Potter seemed to know who he was immediately, but he was from the future! Apparently he'd known Albus somehow and he was sure Albus would have told him god-awful stories about Aberforth.

Aberforth felt his face turn red with anger as he turned on the spot and then raised his wand. He muttered "Silencio" harshly and, then, sparks shot out of his wand and the whole hall turned silent.

Only one person in front of him stood up. Albus dropped the book he'd been laughing over with the blonde boy and stepped over the bench. He was mouthing words, obviously having forgotten about his wand.

"I'll tell everybody!" Aberforth threatened loudly. Albus faltered for a second, his jaw tight, but that only lasted for a second before he kept striding up to him.

A hand grasped his arm tightly.

"I know the truth, Albus!" Aberforth yelled. People's heads turned to the side. "About Potter!"

A chair scrapped against the stone floor as Professor Black started to pull him away.

"You know I do!" he yelled out again, fighting with Professor Black. He tried hard to wring his wrist away from the man. He could see his skin folding and turning red at the grasp. "Potter's a-"

Something wrapped around his mouth and Aberforth voice stifled as Professor Black pulled him into a chamber room behind the teachers' desk and everyone in the Great Hall disappeared from view as Black locked the door behind him with a locking spell he'd never heard before.

Professor Black's eyes narrowed as he turned to face Aberforth, who was rubbing his red hand where he'd grabbed his wrist.

"Who exactly are you, might I graciously ask?" Black said unkindly as he stepped closer to him.

"Dumbledore, sir," Aberforth said. His voice cracked unpleasantly. He hadn't realized how frightened he'd been when Black grabbed him, but he could also feel left over nerves, ones he hadn't even realized he had when he'd been walking up to the front. Had he been so dead set on telling everybody that he hadn't realized it had taken a toll on his body?

"Dumbledore?" he said, taken aback, though keeping his bravado face on. "I beg your pardon?"

"Aberforth Dumbledore. Albus is my older brother."

Black stared vehemently at Aberforth for a long time. Aberforth bit his lip, uncomfortable with his stare. It was like he was trying to see the resemblance to Albus in Aberforth, or at least, try to figure out what he meant in the Great Hall.

"You have information on Potter, did you say?"

Aberforth swallowed, his heart pounding. Merlin, that had been a bad, bad idea. He had no idea what to say to Black. The man seemed to tower over him, even though Aberforth was just barely taller than him already.

He thought about lying. He had to, but he couldn't make a decision. He was sure that Albus was out there, trying to get in, but that didn't stop him.

Slowly, Aberforth gave an answer.

* * *

"Harry, come with me."

Merrythought pulled him from away from where he'd been standing. Harry actually couldn't remember standing at all. In fact, he'd been so focused on Aberforth that he hadn't even seen Albus coming forward from the Gryffindor table. Harry's heart pounded as fast as it had when he'd been walking to his death to kill Voldemort.

Merrythought rushed Harry toward the door that Aberforth had walked in through.

"Albus! No, come here!" Merrythought yelled out toward him as he started up toward the teacher's table. Abruptly, the Hall exploded in talk as the charm Aberforth had sent over everyone was lifted.

Albus's eyes pierced Merrythought as he turned and strode towards them in anger.

"I am going to kill him," Albus said through his teeth as Merrythought shut the door to a side aisle

"Albus, you don't know what he's going to do," Merrythought said, though she didn't seem to believe that herself. Harry thought she seemed under the impression that Aberforth would, in fact, tell Black everything there was to tell.

"Oh! I know he's been planning it all along!" Dumbledore practically yelled. Harry's heart skipped a beat. "You know he's known! I know my brother and he will tell Black that Harry's from the future. He can't let the Headmaster of Hogwarts know anything. Harry won't last another minute here if he tells someone who's connected to the Ministry. Aberforth will ruin everything and I will not stand here and let him!"

"Wait, he knew?" Harry asked, shocked. "How did he find out?"

"He was eavesdropping," Albus said, his jaw set, glancing at Harry quickly before turning to Merrythought again. "I need to see him before he tells Black!"

Albus grabbed the handle of the door, but he jerked it back and rubbed it with his other hand. "You will stay here with Harry," Merrythough said fiercely, looking between them. "It's better to not have you two around when Black is done with Aberforth. Only I'll be able to get you. Wait here. Patiently, Dumbledore. We have to keep Harry safe."

He seemed to have a hard time controlling his rage as Merrythought left them alone in the room.

"I'm going to kill him," Dumbledore whispered again, harshly, as he paced back and forth down the hall.

"I actually agree with Merrythought," Harry said, glancing at the door. Truth was, he'd been in worse situations. He'd literally had to hide from the Ministry for a whole year, he'd snuck into Gringotts and got away on a dragon, and most of all, he'd lived through two Avada Kedavras. But, he had to admit that it did scare him. He wanted to go home, and he wondered if that would ruin his chances.

A knot formed in his throat.

"We don't know what he's going to do," Harry said.

"No, I do know what's he's doing."

"Why does it matter so much to you?"

Albus jerked his head, stopping his pacing for a moment. He took a deep breath and his voice seemed to be calmer, more like him, as he spoke. "It should matter more to you, Harry," he said, giving a sigh as if to let out his anger. "This is your life he's putting in jeopardy. Flamel's been working to get you back to your time and the time he's spent trying to get you back is well worth his time, but if Aberforth says anything to him, not only will it make things worse for you- you could go to Azkaban- but do you realize what it would mean for Merrythought and Flamel and me? We're keeping knowledge, very important knowledge, from the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Not only that, but the Ministry of Magic. We should have turned you in the moment you came here, but we didn't because… you don't deserve that." He looked away at a portrait on the wall.

A long moment passed as Dumbledore stared up at the man in the portrait. Harry studied him, literally seeing his anger start to fade completely. His shoulders visibly relaxed and, though his eyes were still dark, he turned to look at Harry with a sad look.

"I honestly don't understand why I'm outraged by my brother's actions, while you just stand there. What is it that's making you so calm? Why won't you tell me anything at all about yourself? I'm trying to help."

Harry honestly questioned his willingness to help. He was mad at Aberforth, but that didn't mean Albus didn't have ulterior motives. He'd done the same before, mostly. He set Harry up to the death without telling the truth of his actions. He manipulated Harry, but Harry, no matter all that, still believed Albus' older counterpart had truly loved him. Really, Harry didn't know this Dumbledore. He acted sort of the same most of the time, but he wasn't as calm as the Dumbledore he knew. He was still trying to prove himself. He had no true experience with dealing with the horrors in the Wizarding world just yet. He hadn't met Grindelwald or watched his sister die.

"You don't believe I deserve it, not yet, anyway." Harry said.

Albus' eyes widened, surprised. At what, Harry didn't know.

"But, I do know you believe in chances. I guess you gave Aberforth a chance, didn't you? To try to prove he wouldn't betray you. Now you're giving me a chance."

Albus looked confused as if not sure what the word Chance meant.

"You're still the same," Harry continued on. "I mean, you'll still be the same later on, except you'll be older and much more knowledgeable about the world. Right now, though, you don't understand my reaction to Aberforth because you haven't been through what I have. Much worse things have happened to me. I'm grateful for what all of you are doing for me, but trust me, I've had really bad things happen to me. I'm not going to tell you what yet. I just need you to trust me. I know the consequences of what could happen if Aberforth says anything to Phineas. I know what to do if I get arrested."

Dumbledore only got a nod in, though, when the door opened again and Merrythought beckoned them out the side chamber.

The Great Hall was completely empty.

"Everyone's being led to their houses as we speak," Merrythought said, striding down the long length of the Hall. She was walking so fast that even Dumbledore had trouble keeping up with her.

"What did he say?" Albus asked, struggling to walk at her pace. Harry practically had to run to keep up.

"Well…"

She pushed open the doors to the Entrance Hall. Aberforth was standing right there with Black and Garside. Aberforth was staring down at his feet as if ashamed.

Harry felt his heart sink.

Something lunged beside him.

"What in the world were you thinking, Aberforth?" Albus yelled at him, striding toward his brother. "What ever possessed you to go up there and say such a thing?"

Aberforth glanced at Harry, his eyebrows knitting.

"He's not going to help you," Albus said, glancing back at Harry. "Not after what you did."

Harry looked toward Garside and Phineas. Neither one of them were attempting to do anything to Harry. They were just staring at Albus's display, taken aback. Something was not right.

"Can't I explain before you start going down my throat?" Aberforth yelled abruptly, stepping up close to his brother, nearly eye-to-eye. "You're so full of yourself! Thinking you know everything!"

Then, Aberforth pushed him.

Albus stared at him in shock for a moment, but that didn't last very long because that just seemed to frustrate Aberforth further.

Harry watched as an outright brawl came between them. Without a second thought, though, Harry jumped in and tried to pull the brothers apart. He got smacked in the jaw by one of them- which one he wasn't sure- and grabbed hold of Aberforth's shoulder's while Garside grabbed Albus's. Aberforth fumbled for his wand, but Harry grabbed his hand quickly.

Albus ran a hand over his jaw where a welt started to form. Harry's own jaw started to throb as he tried his hardest to restrain Aberforth, who was trying to lunge forward again.

"Dumbledore, stop!" Merrythought said to Aberforth as she stepped between the two boys. "You already have a month's detention with me. Don't make me take away house points as well! Albus, Harry, come with me."

Garside let go of Albus and he got a head start with Merrythought before Harry let Aberforth go.

He was just ascending the stairs when Aberforth shouted, "Confringo!"

Harry reacted quickly, faster than he even thought himself possible. "Protego!" he yelled and a shield deflected the spell and sent it flying across the room. A statue of a Gargoyle beside the front doors shattered to pieces.

"Did you just try to blast me?" Albus said, shocked.

"Yeah, I did," Aberforth shouted. "Because you can't stop trying to boss me around. You boss everyone around! It's not fair."

"Please tell me what all of this is about, Aberforth," Albus said angrily as he stalked toward his brother again. "This isn't about Harry, this is about me, right? You risk Harry's safety to get back at me?"

"You don't care about him!" Aberforth said. "You don't care about me, either. You don't care about Ariana or Mother or even Father! You only care about yourself. Becoming famous, right?"

That seemed to do something to Albus. Harry felt something push on him, an invisible force as Albus pulled out his wand.

Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing.

And it only took him a second to jump in.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter! I'm finally done with school for four months and I'm going to spend most of the summer writing. I'm very excited. By the way, this _is not_ Ariana's accident. That comes much later. This is a precursor to that._

_Also, I'd like to say that this story had its one year anniversary on April 29th! I started it a year ago and left it floating around in my computer until August when I finally decided to post the first three chapter I'd written. It's definitely been a short year! Thanks for reading!_

_On side note: the word 'perfectness' was spelled that way on purpose._

_How'd you like this chapter?_


	14. 14: Where To Go

_**A/N:** Sorry about the really, really late chapter. I was stuck at a roadblock with what to do with the next few chapters until I discussed it with TheFairPhantom. SO, I have it planned out right now that there will be about three chapters after this that deals with what's discussed in this chapter, then, after that, 10-15 more until Harry's fate is decided with the potion (I'm separating these because since last chapter, there's been a transition and the transition will need to last for longer than one chapter). So, here is chapter 14. Again, sorry for the long wait!_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Where To Go**

Harry Potter stared straight at Merrythought, not believing what he was hearing.

"Sorry?" he asked, surprised. Harry had not been expecting this.

He knew that the whole deal with Aberforth Dumbledore had been some intense moments, intense enough for Albus to completely leave behind any sort of calm demeanor and go off in a rage toward Aberforth, where Albus very nearly tried to rip his younger brother to pieces.

Not literally, of course, but close to it. There had been a very short lived wandfight where Albus managed to get Aberforth's wand away, but that only made Aberforth angry. The next second, as Harry rushed forward with the other teachers Aberforth pinned Albus down on the ground. He hit him over and over again, and yelled out, "You're nothing, you great ugly prune! You're the one who's been putting his nose in other people's business, thinking you're all important and-"

At this point, Black and Garside stood there, watching with shocked expressions. Merrythought seemed less shocked, though, but Harry flicked his wand and Aberforth soured off into the air, and stopped, hanging upside down two feet over his brother's chest. At least he was wearing pants, Harry noticed when his heavy cloak fell over his head, rather than what Snape had been wearing in that one memory Harry'd seen.

Albus looked up at Aberforth, shocked, then up at Harry, even more surprised. He didn't seem too damaged at all, just a little roughed up.

Aberforth flailed his arms around. "Put me down!" he demanded.

Albus pushed himself out of the way, not standing up, but giving enough room for Harry to lower Aberforth down on his feet.

"Why are you keeping what Potter is?" Aberforth yelled at him as Merrythought grabbed his arm and put a silencing charm over him as Harry tried to help Albus up, but he just waved Harry off. "Don't worry about me," he told him quietly, standing on his own.

"You just said-" said Black, but Merrythought started to drag Aberforth off. "Now see here, Galatea!"

"He's got nothing to say," she said. "Trust me. I wouldn't keep information from you, now would I? Aberforth's obviously just trying to avenge his brother. I've talked with Harry and there's nothing to worry about with him. He's a very competent wizard. I don't know what Aberforth's been going on about."

Phineas Nigellus' eyes narrowed as if she didn't trust her, but Harry was sure he did trust her well enough. She was Head of Gryffindor after all.

"I know both these boys," she continued when she saw the skepticism in Phineas's black eyes. "Aberforth has some behavioral problems, but he's very concerned about his family. Albus happens to be very protective of Aberforth, too. As for Harry, he does his job as you hired him to do. There's nothing at all to worry about and honestly, I can't think of anything to accuse Harry of. Right now, I believe the boys just need to be separated so they can calm down. Harry, please come to my office soon so we can discuss tomorrow's classes."

Before Black could say anything else, Merrythought started to drag Aberforth up the stairs again. Black and Garside stood there, looking up at them, and when they disappeared, the two black-haired men turned to Harry and Dumbledore.

"Come on, Dumbledore," Harry said, standing up a little straighter. He felt he needed to be the teacher here, conducting him. "Do you need the Hospital Wing?"

"No, I'm fine, sir," Albus said, straightening his robes and his Head Boy badge on his robes. "Sorry about that, Professor Black. My brother's a little, or well, stark raving mad, if I should be perfectly honest. I apologize on his behalf the disturbance from tonight's festivities. May I return to Gryffindor Tower?"

Black surveyed him for a long moment, then sighed, as if deciding there wasn't much else he could do. "Yes, yes. Go on, Dumbledore."

Albus gave him a smile, his eyes twinkling. "Thank you, sir."

Harry followed Dumbledore up the stairs and then, thirty minutes later, he found himself sitting on the sofa in Merrythought's cluttered office, which had even more papers and stacks of books than it had when Harry first arrived there.

"Sorry?" Harry asked again.

"You heard me," Merrythought said, pacing around a clear space in the center of her office. "You have to leave Hogwarts."

"Why? Phineas Nigellus doesn't know-"

"He does," Merrythought said abruptly, but she paused, softening her voice. "At least, he will know soon. I've taught Aberforth for three years. He's not at all like Albus. If he gets upset, he'll rave. It's very dangerous for you to be here with him knowing what he knows. If Black ever found out, you would definitely be sent to Azkaban. Albus could be prosecuted as well for keeping information."

"And you?" Harry asked.

"The same," she said, running a hand over her long braided hair. "It's very dangerous for you to be here."

"But won't leaving raise his suspicions?" Harry asked.

"He's already got his hackles raised, Harry. He's already alerted the Ministry, I know he has. I'm very sure the Head of Magical Law Enforcement is already looking for your files. It's a good thing Flamel made those for you, but they could easily find those are fake, if they trace them correctly. It would be nearly impossible, but seeing as there's possible in the word impossible… I can assure you, Harry, that there's going to be an investigation very soon and you do not want to be caught in the middle of it. It's best if you leave now."

Harry had been on the run from the Ministry before, but that had been much, much of a bigger deal to him than running from the Ministry before they could figure out who exactly he was. But, logically, he felt safer at Hogwarts, with Dumbledore nearby, even if Dumbledore was only 17.

He didn't want to raise an alert to Black or the Ministry, either. It seemed too risky to leave now, right when Phineas's suspicions were high on him, according to Merrythought.

He didn't want to seem a coward, either, running when he had the chance. He was stronger than that.

But if it did come to a point where the Ministry did find out that he was from the future, what would he do? Running then would probably be even worse then. He'd be a wanted fugitive. He'd been that, too, once, but the consequences for him a hundred years in the past were not as clear. In his own time, the threat was Voldemort. Here, it was not getting back to his true time like he needed to. He couldn't risk that.

"Can't I stay here a couple more days, at least so it doesn't seem as abrupt."

Merrythought seemed to think through that, pacing still. Harry waited, watching her. He wished that Hermione and Ron were there. He missed them so much and he was sure Hermione would know what to do. She usually did.

"Okay, that will give us time to think of what you can do until Flamel gets the potion ready. Also, we can make up an excuse of some kind, for why you're leaving. Have your things packed, though. Don't answer your door if someone knocks. We can charm it-"

"I have my map," Harry said, reminding her. He'd told her about it when she'd caught him looking at it about a week before.

"That's right. Just be careful until we figure out what to do."

Harry nodded, standing.

As Merrythought escorted Harry to his rooms down the hall, Harry felt as if he was being pushed out of Hogwarts again. But to be pushed out into a world he should have found out more about before this happened scared him, not as much facing Voldemort, but more nearly like facing Snape before he found out about his past.

He wasn't exactly sacred, he considered. He just didn't have an awareness of the unknown, like the ambiguity of Snape's true loyalty.

"Get packed," Merrythought whispered, glancing around the room. She seemed to determine it was safe. "Oh, and come to class tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

Harry stared around his office. It didn't feel at all like home, more like a place to go to when he had no where else to go. Really, he felt trapped there and had the distinct feeling that it felt like the tent he and Hermione and Ron shared during the approximately eight months he'd run from the Ministry. Hogwarts felt like his home in his past, the type of home that Snape and Voldemort had made for themselves when they attended Hogwarts.

In his world, Harry still lived at The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley, after the countless times Harry tried to leave and make his home elsewhere, convinced him to stay a few more days.

"Oh, Harry, no you don't have to. Please stay," Mrs. Weasley said the first time he suggested it. "You have plenty of time to decide that. I know you're not going back to school in September, but have a rest for a while."

So, he stayed. Even when he'd gotten a job in the Auror department, Mrs. Weasley asked him to stay a while longer, until he got his bearings. After his eighteenth birthday, he brought it up again and got shot down again.

But Harry had another reason to stay (besides Ron there. Hermione had gone back to live with her parents before she went back to Hogwarts). Ginny seemed to be a major reason why he continued to stay at the Burrow for so long, but as soon as she left for school again with Hermione, the Burrow became less and less like home. In the seven days he stayed there between when she left and when he found himself in the past, he thought seriously about moving back into Grimmauld Place so he'd be closer to work, but the prospect of living there again didn't appeal to him. He'd been fine when he was there with Ron and Hermione the year before, but living there by himself didn't really seem like the smartest thing to do.

Andromeda Tonks had even shot him down when he brought it up during one of the many Saturday teas they had together for Harry to see Teddy and for Andromeda to get to know Harry better.

"I know Sirius left it to you," she said as Harry sat on the floor with Teddy, handing him toys to grab onto. He was strong enough to hold his head up and sit up and liked to bang stuff around. His hair continued to change color every few minutes, whenever a different color caught his eye. "But that place is scary. I know my aunt and uncle did all sorts of things to that house, and who knows what's been growing there since they passed. Nymphadora told me all these things about it when she was pregnant with Teddy. I know you're strong wizard, but living there by yourself is not a very good option after hearing what Dora saw there."

After that conversation, he realized he still couldn't live with the thought of Sirius being stuck there like Harry was stuck here, in the past, waiting and waiting until Flamel got the potion finished.

Leaving Hogwarts might have been a good idea, but having the same dilemma about where to go in his real time and in the past didn't seem like a very promising time for him. He shouldn't have been so hesitant; he'd rarely been before.

At least at Hogwarts in this time, he had Dumbledore, even though he still reminded very persistent, trying to get as much information out of Harry as he could, but Harry kept his mouth tightly shut. Of course, he wanted to blurt it all out to give him a head start for the future, but he had no idea if the future would change or if his being there was already laid out and meant to be. He wondered if Professor Dumbledore had known he'd been there.

It wasn't much different from the last time he let Hogwarts, but still different. When Harry had left to search for Horcruxes, Dumbledore, of course, hadn't been there. There was an unknown both times, though. The last time, he only really knew two things of what would happen in the future then- he would either live or die. Now, he could either return home or not.

He could remember the moments after Dumbledore's funeral, after he'd broken up with Ginny, after Scrimgeour approached him, and after Ron and Hermione told him they would be there for him.

He'd been the last one left in the boys' dormitory, left to pack his things. The fake necklace dangled from his neck very much the same way the mokeskin pouch did as he packed much fewer things into a shoulder bag instead of a trunk, 99 years in the past.

He mostly packed haphazardly, thinking too much about Dumbledore's funeral and repeating over and over again in his head: locket, snake, cup, something of Ravenclaw's. Locket, snake, cup, something of Ravenclaw's.

He'd been so intent on that that he hadn't even noticed Neville come in behind him.

"All right, Harry?" he asked. Harry turned his head as Neville grabbed a book off his nightstand and opened his trunk. He was ready to go. Harry was the only one not ready.

"'Lo, Neville," he said, stuffing a cloak and a book into his trunk.

There were a few minutes in between. Neville seemed to be organizing his things even though he'd already packed his trunk, but Harry, once he tried to shut his trunk, it only latched on barely from the disorganized chaos.

"Harry?" Neville said.

"Yeah?"

"Does the castle… I mean, does it feel different to you?"

Harry turned, neither indifferent nor confused about it. Actually, when he thought about it, the castle did feel… colder, even during late June.

"Different how?" Harry asked anyway.

"Just… forget it," Neville shook his head, his face blushing slightly as he stood and almost left the room.

"Do you mean colder?" Harry asked before he could leave.

Neville sighed and turned again, walking passed Harry to a window that looked out to the grounds, toward Hagrid's cabin. He stared out. Harry could see from where he stood that his eyes went unfocused. "Yeah. It's colder," he said finally. "It's feels emptier. Do you think, Professor Dumbledore's magic?"

"I-I guess," Harry said sadly. The loss of Dumbledore's magic, with him being such a strong wizard, might have caused the castle to feel strange. He hadn't really noticed it until Neville mentioned it. If they could both feel it now, then there was no doubt that Dumbledore had been a very strong wizard, probably even stronger than Harry could even imagine. "He was powerful enough."

"It scares me, Harry," Neville said, looking down toward his feet. "Do you think the war will ever end? If Dumbledore couldn't make it… and he was the greatest wizard in the world! But, I-I think…" He paused, leaning in closer to the window, craning his neck as if he saw something on the grounds.

Harry thought about what Professor Dumbledore said, how Neville could have been the Chosen One. Harry had the sudden urge to tell him, but he didn't think that would be very helpful to Neville.

"I think it will end," Neville said when Harry didn't answer. That caused Harry to feel taken aback. When Neville first brought it up, he seems so hopeless about it, but now his voice was confident and strong. "I think we'll win because of you."

"I think we'll win, too, but it won't be me alone that wins it," said Harry.

Neville sent him a small smile. "Are you coming back to Hogwarts next year?"

"No."

Neville nodded. Even though he didn't know what Harry had to do, he still seemed understanding. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"I believe in you, always have," Neville said, smiling a little wider, but still sadly. He stepped away from the window and grabbed onto the handle of his trunk. "The train's leaving soon. Professor McGonagall said ten minutes ago that she's coming up to lead everyone down soon."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said. The door closed behind him.

Harry glanced around his dormitory. That had been his real room for six years and now, since he wasn't coming back to Hogwarts, it wasn't going to be his room anymore. He took a long look around it, as if memorizing everything. He was going to miss it. He knew that. But, really, he needed to leave. He needed to destroy Voldemort.

And now, Harry was back at Hogwarts, Voldemort defeated, albeit one hundred years in the past. He was going to leave again, for the better of his safety.

He stuffed the robes he'd purchased in Hogsmeade into a bookbag he'd gotten, and then a bag of gold he'd collected from working at Hogwarts for two months. It wasn't much, but Harry doubted he'd need much wherever he was going. It probably wasn't wise to carry too much.

Once Harry was done, he sat down in a chair and pulled out The Marauder's Map. Black was in his office, stationary at his desk, while Merrythought paced around her own. Harry turned to the Gryffindor Common Room. Aberforth's dot was moving around sporadically in his room, by himself while Albus and Elphias' dots were close together, obviously discussing something in their own dormitory.

He didn't really blame Aberforth for what he almost did, how he almost told everyone that Harry from the future. From the time that Harry had spent with Aberforth at the Hog's Head, the man was much les forgiving of people that his older brother had been. As he watched his dot move around, he seemed incredibly restless. Harry had no idea what for.

He'd just wished Albus told him something. Or at least Merrythought because she seemed to know Aberforth knew he was from the future. But Harry also knew that Dumbledore was one to leave information out. That seemed to be a habit he'd had all his life.

He didn't want to get mad at Dumbledore. It would have been more helpful if he'd just said something to him instead of letting Aberforth go on. Harry thought Aberforth had proved that he wouldn't say anything, though, when he refused to tell Phineas Nigellus about Harry.

That was something good, at least.

Harry sighed, clearing the map and setting it aside.

At least he had a couple more days at Hogwarts until he was meant to leave.

* * *

Harry went to all the classes for the next two days. He refused to go down to the Great Hall for meals, though, and reverted back to what he did before. An old House Elf brought meals to him, but not on his call. The Elf just seemed to know.

Aberforth didn't come to Defense on Monday. Tuesday, Albus came, but said nothing to Harry.

But it was later that day when Harry was clearing his office that there was a knock on the door.

Harry checked his map and saw that it was Albus.

"You're leaving?" Albus said immediately when the door opened. Harry blinked, surprised that he hadn't even said 'Hello.'

"I am," Harry said, stepping away from the door to let him in. He shut it and then turned to Albus. He didn't waste anytime getting to the point at all.

"Why didn't you tell me! Professor Merrythought mentioned it just now! You can't leave."

"Why can't I?" Harry asked, clearing the map again and sticking it in his mokeskin pouch.

"It would ruin everything!" he said, exasperated.

"Everything?" Harry asked with no hint of anger or accusation in his voice. "I know you're trying to figure me out. Believe me, if I could tell you, I would, but… I can't. We know each other in the future, and I can't say anything else."

Albus stared at his, his blue eyes lost of a twinkle. He seemed so young to Harry just then. Normally, he seemed older than 17, much older, but suddenly he looked as if he was just a normal teenager. It was an odd concept for Harry.

"I don't want to leave Hogwarts," Harry continued. "I wish I could stay, but Merrythought's sure Black's onto me right now. Normally, Hogwarts has been the safest place for me, but right now it's not. It's not even about me, not really. If the Ministry put me under Veritaserum, I could ruin the future."

"Where are you going?" Albus said.

"I'm not sure yet."

Albus tried to catch Harry's eye, but Harry turned away, picking up his bag. Merrythought told him he would be leaving by portkey at eight. She didn't tell him to where, though.

"Will… will I see you again?"

Harry glanced back up at him. Honestly, he hoped he would. He learned some things about Dumbledore, but not much at all. Not as much as he hoped he'd learn. Dumbledore often came to Harry's office, normally with homework.

He'd often times get excited about an essay he was working on, particularly for Transfiguration. Harry could remember him saying once, "Everything about Transfiguration is logic," he said as he looked through a book for his next article in Transfiguration Today, one that he seemed very eager to talk about. "The basic definition of Transfiguration is the act of changing one object into another. When you take a living thing and transfigure it into an inanimate object, the property is changed. If a rat, for instance, is a rat, then magically changed into a goblet, is it still a rat? If and only if the person doing the act decides to view the rat as a goblet, then the goblet is, in fact, a goblet because the person chose to perceive the rat as a goblet. Does that make sense?"

Otherwise, Harry learned Albus had a remarkable memory for people he'd met. Harry learned a lot about his apprenticeship with Flamel, how Merrythought had introduced them and how excited Flamel had been when Dumbledore figured out three more uses for dragon's blood when he was with him.

Albus, though, he'd try to pry Harry into saying something, anything about his life. He'd only gotten out that Harry had Ron and Hermione as best friends and that he usually stayed at the Burrow when he could. Dumbledore knew his parents had died, but Harry didn't dare say how or when.

"I don't know if we will see each other again," Harry told Albus.

Albus nodded slowly, looking down at his feet.

"Well, then," he muttered, taking a couple steps back. "See you in 82 years if we don't."

Albus didn't seem all that sad, but his voice seemed to give it away. He smiled kindly at Harry, then turned.

"See you," Harry said, but that wasn't completely true. If Harry didn't see him before Flamel finished the potion, then… he would never see him again.

He glanced back at the door. Harry caught Dumbledore's blue eyes once more. They twinkled for an instant.

He hoped that wouldn't be the last time he'd see Dumbledore alive.

For some reason, as he waited for Merrythought to come to his office, the memories of Dumbledore's death came back to him. He didn't want that to be his last good-bye. At least he'd gotten to say a proper good-bye this time, if the limbo he'd experienced after Voldemort hit him with the Avada Kedavra in the forest hadn't been a proper one.

Harry wished he had had the chance to say bye last time. He wished he'd ask Dumbledore more things, just like the last time. Harry wondered if that was meant to be like that, like he'd was only meant to know a very, very small amount of information about him.

Harry took in a deep breath.

There was a knock on the door.

Harry opened the Marauder's map one more time and saw that it was Merrythought this time. He opened the door to let her in.

"I just saw Dumbledore," she said after a quick greeting. "He looked pretty upset."

"He did?" Harry asked, surprised.

She nodded sadly, but seemed to know what had just happened. "Well, anyway… I have what will be the portkey here," she said, holding out a wrench.

Harry nodded and she set it on his desk, muttering, "Portus." It glowed blue for a second before looking like a normal wrench again.

"You're going to the Flamel's," she said to him, sadly. Harry didn't know why she seemed so sad. There was a moment's pause.

Then, suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry jumped, surprised.

"I'll come see you every few weeks," she said, taking in a breath. "To make sure you're getting along okay. Thank you so much for assisting me in my classes."

She finally let go of him. He hadn't realized she liked him so much.

"You're welcome," Harry said.

She smiled, near tears. "You've been nice to have around, but I really hope you'll get home again. I can tell you want to."

"Thanks," Harry said.

She patted his shoulder. Harry grabbed his bag, glancing around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Then, he reached out to touch the portkey. She waved to him.

And then, he felt the whirling winds and he was gone from Hogwarts. Again.

* * *

_A/N: Expect much more updates this month! I'm doing this month's NaNoWriMo for July and I'm using this as my 50,000 word story._

_Thanks for reading! How was this chapter?_


	15. 15: Resigned

**Chapter 15: Resigned**

The morning after Albus said good-bye to Harry Potter, Professor Black nor Professor were at breakfast.

Albus took that as a bad sign.

He took a seat next to Elphias, who glanced up at him as if to see who exactly sat down before turning back to his charms book.

"You haven't seen Professor Merrythought this morning, have you?" Albus asked him as he flipped a page.

"No," he said. Albus looked up to the teacher's table again as if hoping they had appeared there in the few seconds he hadn't looked. "Do you remember what…"

Albus wasn't listening. He suddenly had the distinct feeling that someone was watching him and turned, looking for the source.

"Albus?" Elphias said.

"I… have to go," he said, standing. "Are you done eating?"

"Yeah," Elphias said, following Albus quickly. His strides were so long that Elphias had a hard time keeping up. "Where are you going?"

"Harry left last night," Albus said softly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I think Professor Merrythought might have gotten in trouble."

Elphias's eyes widened. "Did he resign?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Albus said. "She told me he was leaving and I went to see him. He didn't say much, but I can tell he's nervous about getting caught by the Ministry. He doesn't want to jeopardize the future."

Albus hurried up the stairs. Elphias didn't ask anymore questions, just followed, right on Dumbledore's heels until they stopped right in front of Merrythought's office.

He knocked and then waited very impatiently. Too much time seemed to pass and he almost gave up. "Maybe she's-" Elphias started right as the door swung open.

"Did you need something, Dumbledore?" she asked. He peeked over her shoulder and saw that the office was empty.

"Er, no," he said, though he was relieved. "I just had to be sure Professor Black isn't angry with you."

She smiled kindly, shaking her head. "I appreciate your concern, Dumbledore, but that is a matter between him and me. I have everything I'm going to say to him regarding Harry planned out."

"What?"

She just gave him a stern look, her emotions shifting immediately. "I know I'm usually very forgiving with you, but right now I can't tell you anything." She frowned slightly and Albus got the impression she didn't mean to say it like she did. It wasn't harsh, but it wasn't in her kindly voice, either. She must have been very stressed. "I'm sorry, Albus."

He nodded and she shut the door softly. Albus sighed and went down the corridor the way they had come. "She doesn't want me to know anything," he said to Elphias.

"Why?" he asked. "You've been involved with Harry since he got here!"

"I don't know why." Although, Albus was certain she just didn't want him to know where exactly Harry was hiding, most likely for safety. That was understandable, but incredibly frustrating as well.

"Do you think she doesn't trust you?" Elphias asked.

"She trusts me, but I think she knows some… things," he said. By 'things,' he meant how he always tried to push Harry into telling him something from his life. Now, he felt a little guilty about that. He shouldn't have pushed him so hard. "Nevermind. Shall we go to potions?"

Albus couldn't keep his mind off Harry's leave. During classes, he half listened, half-worried about Black's response. The mistake of only giving some of his concentration to schoolwork only backfired in Potions.

"Mr. Dumbledore!" Professor Glumage yelled. "It's much too early for your potion to boil!"

Albus quickly turned down the heat and pulled the cauldron off the flame before anything worse would happen. Glumage nodded and continued onto the next person.

He needed to concentrate on schoolwork, instead, but it was difficult. The rest of the day went by without any incident, not even a whisper of wonderment. Harry did, though, miss classes when he was there, so him missing for the day probably didn't capture anyone's attention.

But, at dinner that night, Professor Black stood, yelling out, "Silence!"

The whole hall turned to look up at him, going completely silent, even Albus, though he glanced at Elphias wearily.

"I have an announcement," he said, his narrowed eyes slipping over every other student's face. Albus swore he caught his eye and looked at him longer than anyone else before shifting to someone else. "It is with regret-" Albus was positive he could hear not a speck of remorse in his voice, "-to inform you that one of our staff has resigned."

There was a sudden gasp that shifted through the Hall as a whisper broke out. People shifted to look up at the Head Table, as if to figure out who had resigned.

"Silence!" Black yelled out again. The hush wasn't as instantaneous as before, but it quieted down enough for him to say, "Mr. Potter, the teacher's assistant to one Professor Merrythought, is no longer a staff member, as I have received a letter of his resignation this morning. Thank you."

He sat back down and the hall broke out into a loud rumble. Albus glanced at Elphias sadly, and stood. He didn't want to be in the Great Hall anymore.

Elphias didn't follow him, though.

He rushed to the front doors of the castle and pulled the heavy oak door open. Once he slipped out, it thundered closed behind him and he sat down on the front steps of the castle and looked out toward the forest.

This was all Aberforth's fault, he thought. He couldn't figure out why Aberforth had to be so… he couldn't even think of a word, but insufferable came close to it.

Albus wanted to know where Harry was. He only had one guess about where Harry was that could have been right.

He had to be with Flamel.

"Albus?"

He turned. He'd noticed the door opening, but he didn't expect the person coming out meant to find him instead. He guessed, however, that his leaving the Great Hall had been very noticeable, since he was tall and Head Boy, and admittingly seen with Harry plenty of times before.

But out of anyone he'd expected to see, he did not expect to see Atticus Potter standing there, half hiding behind the door.

"Hello," Albus said.

"May I talk to you?" he asked. When Albus nodded, Atticus sat down beside him on the steps, about a foot away. "Do you know why Mr. Potter left?"

Albus glanced at him, then turned to look up at the sky. Stars glittered up there with a half moon standing out against the darkness. He didn't think it was right to tell him. There was too much that had to be said and none of it was good, especially when Atticus's father was Head Auror. "No," Albus lied.

"I wondered where he'd been. He usually talks to me in the mornings."

Albus knew that, but suddenly, he realized… "What did you two talk about?" he asked quickly.

Atticus hesitated, glancing back at the door as if he expected someone to open it. When no one did, he turned back to Albus. "Promise you won't tell anybody. Please? My dad can't know."

Albus nodded. "Of course."

"He'd been helping me with Defense," he said, looking down at his hands. "Most people expect me, being the son of the Head Auror to know all about it… but, really, my best subject is Charms. I've been doing horrible in Defense, but Mr. Potter was giving me lessons."

Albus had his full attention on him. "Anything else? Did he say anything about himself?"

Atticus looked up, then quickly looked down again. "He never said much. I mean, I asked him once if he's always been good at Defense, and… it's not at all like he's been saying about himself before. He always said he was homeschooled, but after I asked, he said he'd started to understand it in third year when 'Hogwarts finally got a good Defense teacher.' That's exactly what he said."

Albus felt both disappointment a panic at that. He hoped Atticus he would never mention that to his dad. "He said nothing else?" Albus said, trying to keep calm.

"I don't know. He said his birthday was July 31st and that he and his girlfriend had an owl named Ariana. Otherwise, no, nothing."

"Did you just say Ariana?" Albus asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I think that's what he said."

Albus stared out toward the forest again, unable to move. Nobody ever knew the name of his sister. When news reports came out about the attack, the name was always omitted and there were never many details besides the fact that his father had done something to a couple Muggle boys. The impression that his father hated Muggles was more on the front of people's minds rather than what happened to his sister. His mother now also tried to keep Ariana hidden. He didn't see how Harry would know, a hundred years later what had happened, if people, almost 10 years later had only a vague idea.

Maybe it was just a coincidence, but he didn't see how.

Had he even really, truly thought about the relationship he had with Harry in the future? He'd been caught up in finding out what Harry's story was. He'd thought about it, of course, but never wrapped his head around the fact that he had no idea how people 100 years apart in age could possibly know each other. Harry seemed to get along with him very well and seemed comfortable around him. Suddenly that idea seemed strange to him.

"I don't understand. He didn't leave because of what your brother did, did he, when he went up to the teacher's table and started yelling?" Atticus asked.

Albus took in a deep breath. "I don't know if I should give that information." He paused, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Look, Atticus. Whatever you do, do not tell your dad about what Harry said when he was helping you in Defense. Anything. Pretend like you didn't know him, all right?"

"Why?" he asked.

"Just promise me." At least none that Albus knew, but he trusted Harry.

Atticus nodded, though he seemed perplexed as if wondering if he should believe Albus. Albus could imagine he'd trust his father more than him, but Atticus took lessons with Harry. He knew Harry much better than Cadmus Potter ever would. "I won't tell him anything"

"Good. Thank you."

Atticus took in a deep breath, glancing down toward the lake. They sat there for a long time and while Atticus wasn't paying attention, Albus studied him, seeing how his nose was the same as Harry's, his hair just as messy but with a shorter style. Atticus was also slight and Albus could imagine Harry had been the same way, maybe even smaller than his relative. It was easy to tell they were only about one or two generations away from each other. He might have even been Harry's grandfather for all Albus knew.

"Why did you tell me?" Albus asked him.

"He's mentioned you a couple times," Atticus said with a small shrug. "It just seemed like you were friends and I've seen you talking to him. Did you know him before he started teaching with Merrythought?"

Albus took a very long time to answer that, mostly because he had no idea how to answer. No, he hadn't known Harry, but Harry had known him, and that was a very strange paradox in Albus's mind. How did they know each other in Harry's time? Really.

"No," Albus said.

"Oh," Atticus said, looking back toward the lake.

Albus could remember one of the first days he met Harry. He almost called him 'Professor.' It was very possible that he would have ended up as a professor, but he couldn't see himself as one, not really.

He could only really see himself as Minister of Magic. He was aiming for that with his studies, why he always spent so much time researching every subject, especially politics, and apprenticing with Nicolas Flamel. He'd never met anyone as interested in politics as he was. He'd never met any with the same kind of marks that he had, either. Albus was the first to admit that he knew a lot.

What he thought he knew was how he was planning on spending his life. He was sure he'd get a high job in the Ministry, maybe Junior assistant to the Minister.

But professor… what would ever possess him to give up his plan.

If Harry's slip was true or not, of course.

But Harry seemed much too close to him, very comfortable. Albus had a close relationship with Merrythought, but he wouldn't exactly call themselves friends. They'd only become more friendly once Harry came into the picture. Otherwise, they didn't know much about each other. Unless Harry had spent many, many detentions with him, he couldn't see how Harry would be so friendly and comfortable with him.

He didn't want to think he'd become a professor. But what else was there? Harry did say his parents died. Could Albus had adopted him?

No. He couldn't see himself being a father. Never. Not even an adopted child, much less a biological child.

He really didn't know and not knowing frustrated him.

"I'm going back to the Tower." Albus blinked a couple times, glancing at Atticus, who he'd almost forgotten was still sitting beside him. "Er, thanks for listening."

"You're very welcome," Albus said kindly, smiling gently, though his mind was still racing, thinking of all the possibilities. Could he be related to Albus somehow? He wasn't sure how any of the Potters would marry into his family at all.

"Are you coming?" he asked, already to the door.

"No, go ahead. I have Head duties tonight."

The door groaned closed, landing surprisingly lightly against the frame.

Albus stared out into the darkness, just wondering.

There was a lot to wonder about with Harry Potter. He had secrets he wasn't willing to share. He had a relationship with Albus. He knew Aberforth of all people. He was very strong in Defense.

Albus just wasn't sure and the thought that he possibly wouldn't see Harry again in 82 years, when Harry would be born, made him reluctantly nervous. He knew it was very, very bad to know too much about the future, or anything really, but to have someone who knew everything excited him.

Even so, he hoped he would see Harry again and if not, then he would just go mad.

The time began to run slowly.

The whole of November, Albus wondered everyday where Harry had gone, but came to no real conclusions. There were times he thought he'd gone to Flamel, but when Albus went to Flamel's house for a check up on his project for him, Harry was no where to be found.

"He's out and about," Flamel had said when he asked. Albus tried to ask what that meant, but he refused whole-heartedly not to answer him as he showed Albus the progress of the Elixir of Epoch, which would take Harry back. "Nine more months," Flamel said, stirring it clockwise, then counter clockwise five times.

Albus thought nine months felt like a lifetime, although, Flamel, who was well into his 500s probably thought that was a nice lengthy walk on a trail.

Merrythought wasn't much better. When he'd ask her, she'd say that Harry was doing fine, but that was all she ever told him. "Don't worry about him," she said softly during spell practice in Defense. "He can take care of himself."

By December, he learned nothing about Harry, not even any sort of investigation that the Ministry could have been keeping quiet if there was such a thing going on.

Otherwise, Albus kept a close eye on Aberforth when he wasn't on Head duties or studying in the library (a place where Albus was sure Aberforth didn't even know the location in the school). He watched his brother close enough to know that he most often went to the green houses in his free time or else went down by the lake.

Albus had never watched Aberforth so closely before and had no idea he liked to spend so much time outside. That made it easy to see him because he could glance out a window facing the right direction to see if Aberforth was out.

His brother didn't make much trouble, though, for which Albus was glad for.

The only time he actually got to talk to Aberforth was two weeks before Holiday break when Aberforth gave Albus a letter from their mother to read out loud.

"'Albus and Aberforth,'" he read to Aberforth in a corner of the Gryffindor Common Room late one evening. "'I hope you both are doing well. I'm very sorry for my lack of letters. As you can see, our poor owl is in his last flights and I dislike making him fly so far. Albus, since you have your Apparation license, would you mind terribly giving side-long Apparation to Aberforth so I don't have to leave Mrs. Bagshot with Ariana?'"

Aberforth turned his nose at that, scowling. "Hush, brother," Albus said, "It's just one time."

"Which will turn into another when she makes you do the same after Christmas," he said irritably. "I don't want to hear the rest of it." He stood, closing the notebook Albus had given him on his birthday and stood.

Albus looked down at the letter again once Aberforth left. It only said, 'See you at Christmas. Love and miss you both, Kendra.'

Albus folded it carefully and stuck it in his schoolbag, probably to be lost until the end of the school year.

There was a long week of tests after that, and five days before Christmas, almost all of Hogwarts filed onto the Hogwarts Express.

"What are you doing over Holiday?" Elphias asked Albus as they filed down the length of the train to find an empty compartment.

"I'm studying, of course," Albus said. But, he didn't tell him something very important and it involved Harry. "Yourself?"

"I believe the same," Elphias said with a short sigh. "I can see why it's called Nastily Exhausting. The whole year is devoted to these tests."

Albus nodded. "Ah, a compartment. After you."

Albus read and took notes most of the train ride, already starting on the second half of the Transfiguration textbook. He would have read the entire book before school started, but with his apprenticeship with Flamel, he only had so much time. He'd only read half of all his books and planned on spending the break finishing them. His mother would be mad at him for spending all his time reading, but school was important.

"Albus, have you seen this?"

Albus jerked his head up, having forgotten Elphias was sitting right across from him, holding The Daily Prophet out to him.

Albus took it and scanned the page. "What am I looking for?" he asked.

"Bottom right."

Right under an advertisement for a magical cleaning solution was a very small article, hardly noticeable, reading, "A pending investigation by the Magical Law Enforcement Department has garnered little result as the year comes to a close. Led my Head Auror Cadmus Potter, the team investigates a suspicion made by Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black about an assistant teacher who resigned from Hogwarts early November. Little is known about the teacher, but Professor Black says, 'There's something abnormal about the man.' Headmaster Black has stated the teacher, whose name has not been released, has disappeared. The Auror office has had little luck finding him. Information about the investigation or what the teacher has done is strictly undisclosed. It is said that no students were involved."

Albus read it over twice. "Well, at least that's something," he said, folding the paper over and handing it back to Elphias. "No body's found him."

Elphias nodded. "He must be good at this, hiding I mean. I'm sure I would be found in two hours with the Aurors on my trail. What do you think his life was like before he came here?"

"I haven't a clue," said Albus. "All I know is that he's very good at Defense and seems quite experienced, after all the lessons we've seen. Don't you remember in October he beat Merrythought in a full on duel? That's not easy to do with her."

"And then she called you up and beat you in a minute," Elphias added. "You put up a very good fight, though."

"Don't remind me," Albus said.

Elphias smiled. "It didn't seem like it was that difficult for you. You were only a spell away from beating her."

That had been true. Albus wished he had someone that was as good with magic as he was. He wanted someone who could give him a challenge, like Merrythought, but in any subject. There was no telling what else Harry was good at besides Defense, either, so he had yet to find anyone with his skill level and that frustrated him more than trying to figure out Harry Potter.

Once the train stopped, Albus closed the book and his ink and, together, they made their way onto the platform where most parents were waiting, except for Kendra Dumbledore.

Albus found Aberforth standing under the Hogwarts Express sign. "Ready?" he asked him even though he obviously looked ready to get the Apparation overwith.

Albus held out his arm and his brother grabbed on tightly to his arm and then they were off.

Aberforth gasped and sputtered next to him as soon as they landed in their browning lawn in Godric's Hollow.

"It's not that horrible," Albus said, dropping his arm and striding up the cobbled walkway to the pine door of the small bungalow style house.

Aberforth huffed behind him as he pushed open the door.

"Albus!"

A tall woman appeared in the doorway off to the right and a blonde girl jumped up and down behind her, trying to get a better look. "Where's Ab?" she called out.

His mother shushed her and came forward to hug Albus. He only returned it halfway, placing his hand on her back awkwardly before letting go.

"It's good to see you again," she said, letting him go and looking him up and down. He had to look down at her even when she was taller than the average woman. "I think you've grown more. Ah, there's Aberforth!"

That was when Ariana ran forward and nearly knocked Aberforth down from the strength of her hug. Albus smiled reluctantly while Aberforth's face lit up in the first smile he'd seen on his brother since the summer, when Albus happened to leave for his apprenticeship.

Albus stepped away, dropping his school bag down on the floor and starting down the hall toward his bedroom he shared with Aberforth to read. He heard Aberforth say, "Have you fed Hokey and Pokey yet? Come on, Ariana, let's go see the goats," before he shut the door.

Albus settled in a chair at his desk to read with a candle lit, but not even a paragraph in, there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" he said, writing a note in the corner of the book.

"You disappeared," she said as soon as the door squeaked open.

"I wanted to get done with this chapter," he said.

"It's Christmas, Albus. Please don't spend all your time studying."

He looked up at her and her dark eyes showed so much concern about it. She really was a good mother. He had good parents, but with Ariana, things weren't like he wished they would be.

Albus gave a sigh. "Please let me finish this chapter, mother."

"Okay, but dinner will be ready soon. I want you there."

Albus nodded and she turned to leave, though she came back and hugged him sideways again.

"Wait," he said when she let go and turned to leave. "Do you have any idea where Godric's Hollow keeps records about families?"

"Hm," she murmured, putting her long fingers up to her lips. "I believe that's at the church. I'm sure you could ask."

"Thank you," Albus said, dripping his quill in the ink well again.

"You're welcome. Remember dinner."

She turned to leave and finally, she closed the door softly behind her. He read the chapter quickly, though thinking the whole time that he would go straight to the church in the morning to find those records. Maybe that would give him some clue about Harry Potter, even if they weren't in the correct time frame.


	16. 16: Giving Up

**Chapter 16: Giving Up**

* * *

Albus entered the church early the next morning, despite the fact that he'd had to help Aberforth milk the goats, Hokey and Pokey, which took an excruciatingly long time to him, and have a long, drawn out breakfast where Ariana had on of her episodes because Albus knocked her while he was reaching for the butter, but he managed to get away from his family.

The church was completely silent and, seemingly, empty. His footsteps echoed down the main aisle as he got closer to the altar, which was painted with the story of the last judgement. But, Albus knew something that the Muggles of the village didn't know.

The eyes of one of the angels in the painting blinked at Albus. He was always the most helpful one.

"Where are the archives?"

The angel's eyes moved to the right and then down. Albus smiled, thanked him, and went off to the right, down the steps and into a door beside the altar.

He found the steps easily, for they were right ahead of him. In here, his footsteps weren't nearly as loud, and that comforted him.

Albus stopped once he stepped off the stairs. There was a line of doors in the dark hallway, each with words or numbers painted on the door. He walked down, reading the black lettering: Mr. James Jackson, Mr. Frederick Sampson, Classroom 1, Classroom 2, Mrs. Selena David, Library, and then, finally, at the very end of the hall, he came across Archives.

He smiled to himself and reached out for the door handle.

"Can I help you?"

Albus spun around, feeling foolish immediately at how spooked he'd been. His hand, seemingly on its on accord even reached toward his wand! But, it was only a man who had stepped out of one of the rooms. Albus remembered that door saying James Jackson on it.

"Yes," Albus said, composing himself. He stood up tall and put his hands behind his back in a civil manner. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I was hoping if I could look through the archives."

Mr. Jackson stared at him. Albus wasn't sure if he was a Muggle or magical. He couldn't sense any magic down the hallways, at least.

"Dumbledore?" Mr. Jackson said, thinking. Albus waited patiently, seeing if the man could recall Albus's family. "Oh, yes! You live on- Yes." He paused for a second, looking abruptly downcast. "But, I'm sorry, there are rules for looking in the archives. Are you looking for members of your own family?"

"No, sir," Albus said honestly. He thought it best to be truthful. He couldn't get a bad reputation in the place where he lived.

"I can't allow you entrance."

"Understandable," Albus said. "Thank you."

Albus went back up the hallway, not even giving a second glance at the man, but as he stepped onto the stairs again, he didn't feel defeated in the slightest.

He'd come back very soon.

* * *

Albus strolled back to his house with his hands closed tightly behind his back. He was sure that if anyone saw him they wouldn't have been able to tell he was thinking as hard as he was- especially about the fact that he was plotting on breaking into a sacred ground.

Albus almost laughed about that. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help but smile at the irony of that. Him, an Outstanding student of Hogwarts who was on the Junior Wizengamot… ready to break into a church run by Muggles who had little idea there were lots of magical folk joining in with their congregations.

"Hello, Mr. Dumbledore."

Albus's smile fell.

He turned around, already knowing who was behind him because he knew perfectly well where he was.

And, sure enough, Cadmus Potter was standing there at the gate of his house, dressed in normal Muggle clothes.

Immediately, Albus was struck by how closely Harry resembled him. Same black hair- though, Cadmus had his tamed and parted to the side- same face shape, same body type and height as both his son and Harry. Albus had to blink a couple times to get Harry out of his mind.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Albus said, nodding, and already starting to walk away.

"Dumbledore, wait," Mr. Potter said. Albus heard the squeak of his gate. "I need to oil that," he muttered. Albus turned, watching as Cadmus held the gate open. "I was wondering if I could speak with you."

"Of course," Albus said, already knowing exactly what he wanted to talk about. And that made him slightly nervous, but he didn't show it.

"Come in, have some tea," Cadmus said, ushering him through the gate.

If Albus was hesitant, he didn't exhibit it at all. He stepped forward and walked up the path to the door with Cadmus behind him.

"Your mother is doing well?" he asked as he opened the front door for him.

"Yes, sir, she's well," he said.

Cadmus entered the kitchen. Albus noticed Atticus Potter sitting at the table with a book in front of him, but he wasn't looking at it, instead his eyes were shifting back and forth between Cadmus and Albus.

"Father-"

"Son, the chickens need feeding, don't they?"

"They've- oh fine," Atticus said, standing. Albus wonered if the boy sensed something about this meeting. Albus had never been invited into the Potter house before, so it was entirely possible Atticus thought something was going on. Once the back door closed, Cadmus let Albus sit down and made the tea. Albus vaguely wondered where Mrs. Potter was, but didn't question it.

"You're a seventh year, correct?" Cadmus asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I've heard excellent remarks about you," he said as he put the tea in front of Albus. He sat down across from him very casually, like he wasn't going to interrogate him later. "What kind of career are you pursuing after school?"

"Ministry work," Albus said immediately. "The Minister has already talked to me about becoming undersecretary."

Cadmus sighed. "Have you thought about the Auror office? We're looking for new recruits. We need someone with induction and deduction skills, as well as a large knowledge of defense."

"My best subject is Transfiguration," Albus said like that made all the difference. He knew plenty about defense, but he understood Transfiguration as if it were a child's book.

"Then you'll know disguise," Cadmus said, nodding. "I know it may not be what you're aiming for, but give it a shot? We would love to have someone like you."

Albus was honestly flattered, but he had to shake his head. He wanted to be Minister of magic. Not an Auror. "Sorry, sir, I have a path already planned out. Now, forgive me, there was something else you wished to speak to me about?"

Cadmus smiled. "How do you know that wasn't it?"

Albus smiled as well and could feel it light up his eyes. Now he understood exactly why Merrythought hadn't told him anything about Harry's whereabouts. She'd known he'd be questioned eventually. "Seeing as you've got an investigation going on about a certain assistant professor, who Professor Black surely has told you I've spent time with, I could only assume you wished to have my side of the story."

"And what is your side of the story?" Cadmus asked, leaning forward.

Albus continued to smile kindly. "I don't know anything about Harry Potter's past," which was mostly the truth. "I have no idea why there's an interest in him. Personally, I believe he is just a normal eighteen year old who is even more excellent at defense than I or Professor Merrythought. I don't know anything about his training, where he's from, or if he is at all related to your family. As his student, I never delved into his personal life because that would be inappropriate."

Cadmus' face fell as Albus talked. Of course Albus was lying through his teeth, but Albus could lie better than anyone else he'd ever come across. He did, in fact, want to know about Harry's life, probably even more than Cadmus Potter did. Harry was a key to the future and knew too much information for him to not want to find out about what would happen later.

"With that said," Albus continued. "I don't know the reasoning for his abrupt departure, nor where he's gone. I expect he's gone back to where he grew up, but that is only a guess. Perhaps a family member became ill. I do not know."

Cadmus was frowning by the time Albus finished, looking completely defeated. "He said nothing at all?"

"No, sir," Albus said. "Everything we've ever talked about has been purely academic. He's taught me a few defense moves, if you'd like to see those. They're quite effective."

Cadmus shook his head and Albus reached for his tea. He wasn't at all thirsty, but he thought it was rude to not drink it after Cadmus made it for him.

"Thank you, Dumbledore," Cadmus said. "If you recall any information, I ask you report it."

Albus nodded and stood at the same time as Cadmus. That was almost too easy, he thought as Cadmus closed the door behind Albus.

Albus made it to his house, still thinking about the archives.

When he thought about it, though- and this was something that made his heart sink completely- he was sure Cadmus wouldn't have left any information about the Potters in the church. He would have used it to see if he could find any mention of a Harry Potter born eighteen years ago, just to see if there was anymore information that the Ministry didn't have in their own archives. That meant that any ancestral information would have been taken out as well, so there would not be a mention of the Peverell's, nor would there be any link to the current Potter family that could lead him to the future family.

When he thought about it, it would be useless to even look.

There was no doubt in Albus' mind that Cadmus took that information out.

Useless.

* * *

Later that evening, the Dumbledores gathered around the fire. Albus tried to read, but Aberforth was telling the story of Babbity Rabbity to Ariana, so theatrically that he was jumping around the room and barking as he told it from memory. Albus stared at him with a severe frown, waiting for him to stop. The only thing that Albus was okay with was the fact that Ariana was smiling serenely at her other brother. She enjoyed stories, always had, even before the accident that ruined her.

She was the only reason why he didn't tell Aberforth to stop.

"Aberforth, quiet down."

Albus looked up at his mother, who was sitting in Percival's old leather chair by the fireplace. She was knitting what looked like a sweater for Ariana and wasn't even looking at Aberforth.

"But Ariana likes it, Mother," Aberforth whined.

"Albus is trying to study," his mother said. "Please be respectful, dear."

Aberforth glared at Albus. "Fine," and he continued to tell the rest of the story to Ariana quietly. Albus went back to his reading for Transfiguration. Sometimes he wished he could be finished with school. He knew already how to do all the spells in the book, and even knew how to do more. He couldn't wait for the N.E.W.T. exams in June.

Aberforth's story finished. Albus was glad for the silence from Aberforth, who lay down on the dusty carpet in the middle of the room afterward. Albus thought he'd fallen asleep, and went back to his book, but after a few minutes, his reading was disturbed again.

"Mother," said Aberforth. "Can you tell one of the stories?"

"I don't think I've memorized them like you have," their mother said. "Why don't you tell another one?"

Albus's eyes were still set directly on the page of the book, but only did so because he was scared that if he looked up, he would lash out at his mother or Aberforth. So, he just waited, to see what story Aberforth would tell before he left the room to go up to his room to read by candle light.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight," Aberforth recited.

Albus blinked as Aberforth stood up and started acting it out, pretending to walk along a path. "In time, the brothers reached a river to deep to wade through…"

He continued like this and Albus couldn't help but watch as Aberforth talked about the brothers with their wand, stone, and cloak. Albus couldn't help it but to listen, sitting there on at the hearth of the fire stiffly, with the book still clutched in his hands as if he were reading it.

Albus loved this story. He, too, could recite it as perfectly as Aberforth could.

He wished he could get to those archives, see if the stories were true- see if that marking on one of the Peverell's headstones was really the markings of the hallows. He wanted to know so badly if they were real.

He wanted to know what Harry knew about them.

He didn't understand how every thought he had somehow turned to that mysterious time-traveler. Harry had so much information. Albus wanted so desperately to know it.

As Aberforth's story winded down, Albus stared at nothing in particular, but inside he felt like he would burst. He needed to find out what happened to Harry. His curiosity was getting too high for this guess work.

But, no matter how much he wanted it at that moment, he knew there wasn't a way he could get it. Why couldn't have Merrythought told him where Harry was? Was that really for a security measure, or did Harry not want to be found? If the latter was so, then who was he running from? The Ministry or… could it be possible he didn't want to be found by Albus?

Albus sighed, returning to his book once Aberforth collapsed back onto the carpet.

He was getting so antsy. He wanted to learn more, but he couldn't. Harry wasn't there.

* * *

The days went by.

Christmas came and passed.

He apparated Aberforth to the train station and traveled to Hogwarts by the Hogwarts Express. When dinner came for the spring term, he looked up at Head table, practically expecting Harry to be there, but he wasn't. He could see Atticus Potter a few seats down from him, and all through dinner, Harry was all that Albus thought about. He felt the same desperation to talk to him as he had when Aberforth told The Tale of Three Brothers.

He wondered if he was with Nicolas Flamel.

But, when he visited Flamel in February with his put outer, there was no sign that Harry was with him at all.

"Great work, Albus," Flamel said as he clicked the object. The flame of the candle on his desk flickered some, but that was it. "You're getting very close."

Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling as Flamel gave him the device back.

"Start thinking up a name for it."

There was a moment's pause. Albus hesitated, wondering if he should really ask.

"Sir," Albus said as he placed it in his cloak pocket. Flamel gruffed at him to continue. "Have you heard from Harry?"

Flamel laughed and crossed the room with more speed than Albus could have thought a man so old could have. In his mind, he made a mental note to have energy like that when he was older as Flamel stirred a cauldron on his work desk.

"The potion is nearly there," he said. "I'll have to contact Potter soon to tell him that it may be ready much earlier than I had believed before."

Albus blinked, his heart stopping. "How much earlier, sir?"

"Perhaps May," he said. "We shall see."

Albus' heart began beating too fast. That meant there was less time to talk to Harry. "So, you know where he is?"

"Of course I do," Flamel said. "But that information is strictly between him and me. Don't ask again, Dumbledore. He's doing something very important."

"As in?"

Flamel shook his head. "He'll tell you if you ever meet with him again."

'If you ever meet with him again.'

Albus felt physically sick after he left Flamel's home. He couldn't believe it. It was like he had just heard someone had died. Harry was still there, his body was somewhere, but he was completely unreachable.

It took Albus a week to come to terms with that.

And by March, he told himself during a long, boring lecture in History of Magic that he needed to stop. The future of seeing Harry didn't seem very bright. He kept getting updates on the potion from Flamel. It seemed like it would really, truly be ready in two months, at the end of May. As Albus held onto his current letter from Flamel during that class, he knew he had to stop worrying about it.

He could ask Harry in a hundred years.

It seemed impossible, though, to wait that long. But, it seemed like that was the only thing he could do.

When he left History of Magic, he went straight to the library to study for his N.E.. He needed to put all his focus on that, instead.

And he did.

* * *

_A/N: Ugh, I know, I know. I'm such a horrible person. I can't believe it's January now and I haven't updated since July! That's insane. I'm so, so sorry. I was going through some personal health issues during the fall semester and was trying so hard to work those out and trying to keep up with school work that I hardly wrote at all. But, I'm back now. I'm so, so sorry for the wait! I feel horrible._

_Sorry for the short chapter, but I needed to stop it there. I'm already working on the next one, and that one should be up shortly because I know exactly where I'm going with it._

_Also, shameless plug- My sister and I are working on collaboration stories. They're just short Harry Potter stories where we alternate each chapter between each other. /~purplesuit if you want to read more from me. Thanks :) Sorry for the plug.  
_


	17. 17: Decisions

**Chapter 17: Decisions**

* * *

Harry Potter stood in front of a house.

It was much, much different than the last time he'd seen it. The side and roof was still intact, the bushes weren't overgrown, and the gate surrounding it was a pristine white.

The house was so nice, with flower beds in the early spring, neatly cut hedges, a red front door attached to the Tudor style building…

Harry's eyes glistened slightly as he wondered what it would have been like to grow up in this house. He knew Atticus Potter had grown up in it, since he'd talked about how great it was to climb the tree in the front yard and run around in the woods behind the house during their morning conversations. Harry looked up at the oak and wished he'd grown up climbing it, too.

Maybe, Harry thought, as he stepped away to go further down the cobbled lane, he could fix up the one in his time. He and Ginny could live there when they started a family, and his children could have the experiences he'd missed out on.

He didn't want to leave the Godric's Hollow house, but as he took one step, and then another, he remembered Dumbledore's words: "It does not do to dwell on dreams." He had to keep moving.

He found Bathilda's house easily. He remembered exactly where it was from the last time he'd been there. The location was something he doubted he'd ever forget. The snake coming out of Bathilda still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end from time to time.

But, he knew Bathilda was alive and well. He'd seen her and even talked to her months ago in the Great Hall while Dumbledore showed her around the school. It was just being at the house that made him slightly weary.

Flamel had told her Harry wanted to talk to her. She was expecting him in much better circumstances than the last time.

He knocked on the door to her house. It took her a few minutes, but eventually, she opened the door.

"Harry Potter?" she muttered.

"Yes," he whispered.

She stepped out of the door to pretend to put some milk glasses on the steps. Harry slipped into the house and once she closed the door, he pulled off his invisibility cloak.

"I knew you were related to Cadmus Potter the first time I saw you," she said when she looked at him. "How could you not be?"

Harry smiled, giving a light shrug. Flamel told him Bathilda knew where he was from, but for her to say it immediately caught him off guard. The other people he'd met with had no idea he was from the future.

He guessed Bathilda was different. She knew the Dumbledores and the Potters.

"Well, come on, my dear boy, let's have a seat. Tea?"

"Yes, please," Harry said as he sat down in a red chair by the fire place. Bathilda disappeared off into the kitchen.

Harry looked around. He was glad to see that there was not a photograph of Dumbledore and Grindelwald yet. He did see a few pictures of Dumbledore that he actually recognized from Rita Skeeters book, but the photographs looked less weather worn. There, on her mantel piece, was one of the Dumbledore boys when they were a little younger. Albus looked to be about 13 there. Harry smiled, happy that Dumbledore was alive and young.

"Sugar?" Bathilda called.

"Two," Harry replied as he looked around for any photographs of Grindelwald. Finally, he spotted one on a table across the room. Here, the boy also looked to be about 13, maybe older.

"Here you go, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you," Harry said, taking the porcelain cup.

She sat down across from him, sipping her own tea as she studied Harry. He still looked around at the room, trying to spot anymore interesting photographs, but she didn't seem to have as many as she did a hundred years later.

"Nicolas Flamel told me all about you," she said. "As many questions I have for you, I'm guessing you have some for me."

He caught her eyes and nodded, putting his tea down on her coffee table. "Yes, ma'am. I've been… wondering about Albus Dumbledore, for a while now. Longer than I've been here, I mean."

Bathilda nodded, putting her tea down, too. "You know him during your time?"

"You could say we were close." Harry paused, glancing up at the portrait of Dumbledore as a 13 year old, how young and innocent he looked. It was easy for Harry to see that normal twinkle in his intelligent eyes. "But some things happened and I realized I knew nothing about him."

Her mouth formed into a knowing smile and she leaned back in her chair. "Yes, Albus has always been peculiar. Of course, all the Dumbledores are. But, Albus with his brilliant mind and schemes for the future… He's different from his brother and sister.

"The odd thing about Albus is, he seems like a normal boy until you hear him speak or see that twinkle in his eye. I see him walking down the street, just outside this house, looking like he's just casually heading toward the market, until I step outside and realize he's singing to himself! It's very odd, like he's wandering rather than heading anyway. But, he's ever so polite when I speak with him. He smiles so kindly and is interested in whatever I have to say. He always asks how my history book is going, and when I say what section I'm working on, he nods and begins giving me facts about it. Such a brilliant person."

Harry nodded along. He'd seen this all before while Dumbledore was an old man.

"I've only known him since he was 12," Bathilda went on when she realized Harry wasn't going to say anything. "They moved into Godric's Hollow then, after his father died in Azkaban. They were very private at first. I only ever saw Albus and Aberforth in their front yard. Usually Albus read while Aberforth climbed trees or ran around. I said hello to them whenever I passed by. Albus was the only one who acknowledged me. Probably around the tenth time I said hello, he came over to me and asked me what I did for a living."

She smiled at the memory. Harry could only see Dumbledore being so curious to see what she had to say.

"His words and way of speaking was very mature for a 12 year old. I told him I was a magical historian, and he lifted up the Transfiguration book he held- one that was sixth year level- and asked me when a spell was invented.

"I asked him why he wanted to know that, and he said it was so that he he could tell the publisher they'd made a mistake. I hadn't known this, but he said because spells invented before the 1500s had different types of wand movements than the ones invented after the Italian Renaissance, he was sure that one spell could not have been invented recently, even though the text said so! I couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth.

"After that, I asked to speak with his mother. She wasn't as kind as Albus at first. She was still very nervous after what happened with Ariana and Percival that she wasn't too open with others. Albus always seemed to have questions for me whenever I passed by their house that I was spending too much time with the Dumbledores' for Kendra not to take notice of how Albus seemed to like me. Apparently he didn't talk to people unless he had something to learn from them. He's still very selective with who he speaks to."

She paused again and surveyed Harry gently, with a kind smile. She picked up her tea again for a sip.

"He must have something very large to gain from you to be so determined to talk to you."

Harry blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?" he asked. Did she mean gain in personal or common interest or what? After learning about Dumbledore in Rita's book, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. For an older Dumbledore, wanting to know for personal interest might have been a priority, but if he wanted to know for power than Harry wasn't so sure if he should say anything.

Bathilda sighed and placed her tea down again. She looked much older in just that one second, and she no longer smiled.

"Albus is, like a said, peculiar, but so very determined. He won't stop until he gets what he wants. I doubt he would ever mean to hurt anyone- he has a good heart- but at times I wonder if his pursuits in the political realm will have severe consequences. Someone with that mind could do so much damage.

"This is my warning," Bathilda said, leaning in again. Harry's heart skipped a beat at he sudden movements and the edge in her voice. "Do not tell Dumbledore what happens in the future. Keep everything to yourself. I don't want to know a thing, but I know Albus is looking for it. There's a reason he's taken interest in you, and it's not because he's trying to make friends or keep an eye on you.

Harry felt weary- felt the same fear and unusual atmosphere as he had the night of Nagini's attack. He looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as his body temperature seemed to drop.

"All he wants is to know what will happen to him," Bathilda said, her blue eyes piercing into him. Not nearly as piercing as Dumbledore's: hers were a bit warmer and kinder in color. "He wants to know if he's Minister of Magic. Right now, all that boy wants is power. He's good at hiding it under his polite exterior, but he is a manipulator. He will get whatever he wants."

Harry looked down at his hands. "His brother told me the same last year."

When he looked back up, Bathilda was nodding. "His brother is more perceptive than most give him out to be. I'm sure if he could read and if he put as much effort into his studying as Albus does, he would be more powerful than Albus. He may be more naïve and less learned than his brother, but at least he doesn't care about his popularity or power. Aberforth is a boy who cares about his family more than anything else. He wants what is best for the people he loves, while Albus wishes only to have the highest position in the Wizarding world."

Harry nodded, feeling lost for words.

He already knew Dumbledore had believed in wanting all power, but in his time, that seemed like such a long time ago. Dumbledore had grown out of it, been more careful with how he used his abilities.

But here, he was 17 years old. He had these big, glamorous plans he wanted to pursue. He was in the midst of planning these schemes.

And it all felt more real to Harry.

* * *

As Bathilda led Harry out of her house, he felt like he was in a daze.

"I hope to see you again, Mr. Potter," Bathilda said. "Either now or in the future."

Harry barely registered what she said.

As he walked down her walkway, through the gate and down the street with his invisibility cloak on, he stopped in front of the Potters' house. He noticed a man sitting on the front steps, wearing a waistcoat. He had black hair and a face shape so near to Harry's that he had to stand there, staring at the man. The man didn't look up from The Daily Prophet, but he wouldn't have been able to see Harry, anyway.

This was Harry's great-great grandfather. Sitting there. For some reason, as he stared at the man, it hit Harry that Atticus, too, was a great-grandfather.

And they were both dead. But here, they were alive and well, just like Bathilda. Just like Dumbledore. Just like Ariana and Kendra.

Harry could feel the corners of his eyes prickle with tears. He tried hard to make them stop as he thought, in that moment, that he had to do something.

He had to stop Dumbledore from pursuing power. He knew that Ariana's death had snapped him out of it, but if only she and their mother could be spared… As long as he didn't meet Gellert…

He jerked his head away, and ran as quietly as he could to get away from the Potter house, more determined than ever.

And at the edge of town, no body heard the small pop of someone who didn't belong there disapparating away.

* * *

Harry landed in the middle of Flamel's workshop.

"Potter-"

"Dumbledore isn't going to become Minister of Magic!" Harry said immediately as he sat down at the table. He could feel Flamel's eyes on him as his heavy footsteps indicated he was coming closer to Harry.

"What did you say?" Flamel asked. "You're not thinking of changing a thing, Potter-"

Everyone thought Dumbledore was going to end up as Minister, didn't they? Harry hesitated, though, because he really was thinking of changing at least some things now. "He's Headmaster of Hogwarts in my time, because he became so scared of gaining too much power. I've already told this to Dumbledore, here, that he's a professor, but he never believed me."

"Dumbledore scared of power?" Flamel said, shocked.

Flamel drew away from Harry wearily and over to the Elixir of Epoch. He stared into it, then stirred it five times clockwise.

Harry thought Flamel seemed to be thinking too hard, as if trying to figure out how that was possible, that Dumbledore was Headmaster instead of Minister. When Harry thought about it, he wondered how much Albus bragged about wanting to have the highest position in the Wizarding world. Bathilda was right, he seemed humble, but inside he had these grand, arrogant plans.

Harry didn't know what to think. He just needed to stop Dumbledore.

"I told him you were leaving at the end of this month. He's been too interested in getting information from you," Flamel said.

Harry jerked his head up. "You lied to him?" he asked.

"I just needed to stop him, Potter. I've been withholding where you've been. I think he's loosing interest, as indicated by the fact I haven't gotten a letter from him since March. But, I wouldn't put it past him to gain that interest back if he knew you were actually staying until August."

Harry stood stock still where he was. He was sure Dumbledore wouldn't give up that easily. He hadn't given up on Voldemort. He hadn't given up on Harry, or even Snape. Dumbledore was still going to be interested, no matter what.

"You've been withholding information from me, as well," Harry said softly. He was too used to being left out of information, and was usually angered by it. But, now, he couldn't find the anger. Maybe it was a good thing.

But Harry wanted to see Dumbledore again. This was his last chance. Dumbledore wasn't even alive in his time.

"Why wasn't I told of this plan?" he asked.

"Harry," Flamel said, stepping closer to Harry again and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Let me deal with Dumbledore. His job is to be in school, while my job is to help you get out of the nineteenth century."

Harry didn't think that was fair, though. Really, he wanted to see Dumbledore again.

"What if I want to get to know him, though?" Harry asked, standing up and pushing Flamel's hand off his shoulder. "Every single person I've talked to about him- Bathilda, the Minister or Magic, Ollivander- they've all said different things about him."

Flamel closed his eyes tightly.

"Harry-"

Harry shook his head. "Bathilda warned me to stay away from him, but I already knew most of things she said; the Minister said what a wonderful person he was, how smart and gracious he was; Ollivander told me his wand wasn't at all springy, meaning that he would be hard to control or convince. What I've seen of him is different, as well."

"Of course he's different in your time," Flamel said. "I'm a very old man. I've seen plenty of people change throughout the years."

Harry nodded. "But, in my time, he was still someone who makes these mysterious schemes that somehow worked even after he died, but he was able to smile, joke about serious things, and care so much about people. He's different here, and I want a chance to get to know him now, to see even more closely how the events here formed what he became in the next hundred years."

Flamel smiled sadly as Harry paused.

Harry's mind had already been made up, and nothing Flamel said could convince him otherwise.

"I want to talk to him," he said. And change his past, but Harry would never tell Flamel that. He didn't know what happened in the past. "And I'm going to. I promise I won't tell him a thing about the future, but I have to ask him things. I should have done this earlier when I was around him in the autumn, but I have three months left here and I want to make the most of it. I don't want to hear from secondary sources anymore. I've heard enough of that my whole life. While he's here, I want to talk to him."

Flamel frowned and tried to put a hand on Harry's shoulder again, but Harry took a step back.

"I have one more thing to do, but then I'm going to Godric's Hollow at the end of June," said Harry. "I promise I won't let Cadmus Potter see me. I've hid from the darkest wizard in the world before; I think I can avoid the Head Auror."

With that, Harry stalked toward the door and disapparated again.

* * *

Harry found himself outside of King's Cross, but instead of going inside, he crossed the street to St. Pancras station, where he bought the next earliest departure for the mainland.

There was a wandmaker he needed to meet with.

* * *

A/N: So, I actually had this chapter done a week ago, but it felt really rushed toward the end.

Maybe I've fixed it? Forgive me if this chapter's not too good or rushed. I'm very sorry .

But, yeah. Summer with Gellert coming up in the couple chapters :D Very, very soon. Probably one more with Dumbledore before then, I guess? Then Harry's POV again. I don't know how many more chapters this will be. But, you will see Harry's time with the people he's talked to. I promise. I know that was kind of placed in here, but I've known for months and months that that's where he's been.

Anyway, thank you. Please Review?


	18. 18: NEWTs and A Train Ride Home

**Chapter 18: N.E.W.T.s and A Train Ride Home**

* * *

"Ready for the N.E.W.T.s today?" said Elphias.

"No, I'm ready for our world tour trip," Albus said as he grabbed his wand from his bed and slipped it into his pocket. Then, without hesitation, he stepped toward the door.

Albus really wasn't nervous at all. Elphias and the two boys he shared the dorm with were, though. The night before, the three of them flipped through their Transfiguration (for that was the first test of the year) books nervously, reviewing every subject. Frequently, they asked Albus questions, with which Albus recited without even a glance toward his books.

"We're not going to do well, are we?" said Greyson Abbot after the fifth question Albus answered.

"You'll be fine," Albus said reassuringly as he stared up at the ceiling. "You know this."

"Not as well as you."

"He's a genius, though," said Elphias. That caused Albus to smile just a bit arrogantly. He did know almost everything about Transfiguration. Other subjects he might have had to look through the books for, but not Transfiguration.

In the morning, he was actually excited to go do the test. He never looked at tests as a bad thing. Most disliked them, felt anxious about them, but Albus always breezed through them like they were just quick homework assignments.

Elphias followed him down the through the common room , but just as soon as he stepped through the portrait hole, a voice yelled out to him.

"Albus !"

He turned and saw a girl named Suzie McAuley rushing toward him with a piece of paper in her hands.

"I have a question," she stated.

Again with the questions, but Albus understood. Everyone seemed to study at the last minute. Albus had started months ago.

Elphias trailed behind Suzie and him as he answered her question as thoroughly as possible.

"So, to untransfigure an object you don't know what it was before…" Suzie said, trailing off slightly.

"You have to do the three steps: identify, refine, and expand," Albus said as they went down the changing staircases. "You have to know that the object is transfigured first, and I'm sure you know the steps to figure that out. But, to refine the object, you have to break it down, see how the object went from something, to nothing, and then back to something-"

"Oh! I remember this now," she said. sighing in relief before he could even finish explaining the process. "Thanks, Albus. Sorry to bother you, I'm just-"

"I understand," Albus said, nodding. "No need to explain yourself. Anything else?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. Good luck on the test."

She ran off and Elphias stepped beside him as they walked into the Entrance Hall. "When Garside retires, you should take his position," Elphias said.

Albus raised an eyebrow, balking at that. "I'm going to work in politics, Elphias."

Albus still didn't want to believe he'd work at Hogwarts. As a professor. Maybe in his old age, but not anytime soon.

As they both stepped into the Great Hall, Albus felt like going straight to the table to eat a large breakfast, but before he could, Elphias elbowed his side.

"What's your brother doing?"

Albus didn't even have to follow Elphias' pointing. He saw his brother immediately up at the Head Table.

Sighing, Albus wondered why he was up there bothering Professor Garside, who looked annoyed beyond belief.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, this is not what I wanted to do this morning," he said softly before stalking up toward the front in between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.

"Good morning, Professor," he said, and placed a hand on Aberforth's shoulder.

Garside looked relieved, which was something Albus would have never thought would be possible in Albus' presence. But, Aberforth wasn't at all happy to see Albus. He glared up at him. "What do you want?" he asked before Garside could say anything.

"Just wondering why you're bothering Professor Garside."

"Good morning, Dumbledore," he said. "Aberforth was merely asking about his Transfiguration OWL today. I was just telling him that if he needed help, he could have asked me or you weeks ago instead of asking me on the day of the test."

Aberforth's face brighten to a deep shade of red and gruffed before shoving Albus' hand away from his shoulder and turned away, saying, "Why do you have to meddle in everything?"

Albus sighed, glanced at Garside in apology, and followed Aberforth to the Gryffindor table. But, instead of sitting down, Aberforth left the Great Hall.

"Ridiculous," Albus said to Elphias as he sat down to eat.

Elphias frowned, but said nothing.

Albus was sure Aberforth would only get a couple O., and he was not looking forward to the day when the results came in July. His mother would see and probably reprimand him for days. She's be proud of Albus, of course, because he knew without even taking the tests that he'd gain outstandings on them all. He hadn't made anything less on any assignment all year. The N.E. would be no problem at all.

But for Aberforth… He didn't want to think about that anymore.

Albus glanced back up toward the Head Table again. He could see Professor Merrythought up there, talking to Professor Glumage, the Potions professor. As soon as he looked up, she turned her head and made eye contact with Albus before smiling at him reassuringly.

It didn't take Albus even a second to understand why she was smiling like that to him.

She'd told him a couple weeks before that Harry was gone.

Albus hated thinking back to that conversation, even if it had only been two sentences long. He could remember how she'd sat him down in her office after Defense with one of the saddest expressions on her face.

"What is it?" Albus asked.

"Harry's left," was all she said. That was it. Albus stared at her for a very long time, even though she refused to make eye contact with him.

Eventually, he'd just stood up and left. He felt too tired to make it to his dorm, but he did and fell heavily onto his bed.

He had been expecting to hear the news, but it never felt real thinking about it. Only when Merrythought told him did it feel at all real. On his bed, he stared up at the ceiling. Honestly, it felt more like Harry had died than gone back to his time. He breathed evenly to keep himself from crying, and couldn't a raw aching feeling form in his chest.

He suddenly felt so alone, and somehow- he didn't understand why- he felt fearful. fearful about the future.

The link to his future had left for good.

And he never got to say good-bye.

For the rest of his week of school, he devoted himself to studying for the N.E.W.T.s even though he remembered his readings, theories, and the spells he'd already learned. All the reading were mere reviews to him, but it kept his mind off Harry.

He was quite prepared for his exams.

Professor Black's voice ringing through the Great Hall awoke Albus form his thoughts. "Anyone who is not a seventh or fifth year, please precede to your exams in your classrooms. Fifth and seventh years, please wait in the Entrance Hall for further instruction."

Albus and Elphias stood with the other seventh years in the Entrance Hall, but Albus only looked for Aberforth to get his mind off Harry. He spotted him in a hunched in a corner near the front doors, just flicking his wand around. His mouth wasn't moving at all, though, and Albus couldn't recognize the wand movements as any spell. Who knew what his brother was doing, anyway.

Merrythought came out of the Great Hall at 8:55, according to Albus' watch.

"Seventh years, line up alphabetically along this wall," she called out, pointing to her right. "Fifth years, do the same on this side.

Albus never understood the process exactly. Professor Black thought it was more time efficient to put both the fifth and seventh years together to take their prospective exam, but Albus thought that the Great Hall was too crowded. If he was Headmaster, he'd do it a lot differently.

"Good luck," Albus said to Elphias, who stood in front of him.

Elphias smiled up at him just as they were led into the Great Hall that now was filled with individual desks. They were each given their test booklets, parchment, and finally non-cheating quills, and then the bell that had been fashioned at the front rang nine.

Albus wrote his name at the top of the test, and then looked down at the first question.

The edges of his lips twitched into a satisfied smile.

This would be too easy.

* * *

It was beautiful outside when the Transfiguration O.W.L and N.E.W.T were over. Elphias and Albus sat outside in the middle of the grass. Albus lay in it, completely relaxed, but Elphias beside him was busily looking through the question booklet as he chewed on his nails.

"Elphias, relax," Albus said as he stretched out his cramped up hand. He'd written too small, too much, and too fast.

"I can't wait for History of Magic," Elphias said.

"I think you're the only one looking forward to that one."

"Possibly," he said. "Harry's lucky he never had to take these tests."

Albus had forgotten about that, and he felt another stab of loneliness ache through him at Harry's name. Elphias stopped asking about Harry in March.

For him to suddenly say Harry's name made Albus close his eyes and sigh.

"Where do you think he is?" Elphias said.

It took Albus a moment to understand, and when he did, he was shocked. Had he not told Elphias? He thought that he'd told him after Merrythought did, but when he thought about it, he realized he hadn't said a word.

Feeling foolish, Albus sat up.

"He's gone, Elphias," Albus said.

"Gone? I know he's gone."

"No, I mean, he went back."

Elphias blinked at Albus in disbelief. "What? When?"

"A few weeks ago," he said, looking down at the grass. He pulled a couple strands and wrapped it around his finger. "Merrythought told me, so that's it. We won't see him for another 80 years, when he's born."

Elphias sighed. "Pity. I liked him. I'll miss him until then."

"Not as much as me," Albus said softly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

If only he'd had a little more time with Harry, to talk to him, to convince him… That would never happen now.

"We'll be a hundred then," Elphias said off-handedly. "We're only 18 now."

"I'm not even 18 for another couple weeks." Eighty years was so long…

"Oh, I forgot." He paused, but then suddenly slapped his hands against his knees. Albus looked up, startled. "Well, we might as well enjoy out youth as it lasts." He stood up. "Time for the practical."

"I guess so," Albus said as he stood up as well, dropping the grass back into where it came from. "We're probably nearing death where Harry is right now."

"Or already did die."

"No, of course not," Albus said. "Harry never said either of us were dead."

"He didn't tell you lots of things."

Albus just shook his head as he followed Elphias up the grass and into the Entrance Hall again.

* * *

The only thing that cheered Albus up after his conversation with Elphias was his test proctor, Madam Marchbanks.

She clapped cheerfully as Albus performed spells for her.

"Well done, Dumbledore, well done," she said after he almost lazily changed rabbit into an intricate goblet, then into a piece of carved wood before he changed it back into the perfectly healthy rabbit. "I've never seen a wand movement like that before. Amazing."

Albus smiled as he did the next transfiguration she asked. She praised him even more as she marked his performance on her test sheet.

He glanced over at Elphias in the desk a few feet away. His face was red as he tried to transfigure his own rabbit into a goblet, but the cup ended up having whiskers and he closed his eyes tightly before he changed it back into the rabbit.

Albus finished the test before Elphias. As he took a place right by the banister of the grand staircase, he saw Aberforth walk out of the Great Hall, staring straight at the ground.

He didn't turn right to the staircase, though. He went straight out of the open front doors and then ran down the stairs.

Confused, Albus stood there, staring at the last place Aberforth had been. He didn't go after him, though. He probably just was happy to get away from the testing.

When Elphias emerged from the Great Hall, Albus smiled at him, placed an arm around his shoulder and led him up to the Gryffindor Common for an afternoon nap before dinner.

* * *

Halfway across Europe as Albus finished up his tests, Harry took a seat in a railway station in Frankfurt, Germany. He was ready to get back to England after a month in Germany, where he'd been trying to track down the wandmaker Gregorovich.

He had found him after two weeks of exploring the German Wizarding world, asking around in Wizarding pubs to find the way toward his shop in a small town outside of Berlin.

"The shop's on the second floor, right above a pub," said one English man named Thomas he'd met in one of the pubs. "He's got a small collection compared to Ollivander's, but he's excellent at his wands. Be careful when you get there, though. He doesn't like people barging in. So you've got to-"

But, right when he was about to explain what to do, a man clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thomas! Come join!" And he was ushered away as music began playing.

Harry lost sight of Thomas quickly and never saw him again that night.

A day later, he arrived at Gregorovich's shop. The sign outside said, "Gregorovich Wand Hersteller seit 500 AD," just under the wooden sign for The Boar's Head. Harry walked in and followed the red, wooden arrows toward the staircase. He ignored a group of drunk men and ducked in through the narrow staircase.

He stared up at the plain oak door with Gregorovich carved into it. He took in a deep breath, hoping that somehow he'd find a way to get rid of the Elder Wand so he could solely be the owner of his own phoenix and holly wand.

He placed a hand on the door handle, pulling on it, but was immediately thrown back. He hit his head rather hard on the wooden banister of the staircase leading up from the pub.

The door clicked open and a man with dark brown hair stood there, his wand pointing straight at Harry.

"Wer bist du?" said a man's voice.

Harry groaned in pain as he sat up straight. "I don't speak German!" said Harry quickly when he realized he had a wand pointing just inches away from his face.

"What do you want, then?" said the man in a heavy German accent.

"My name is Harry and-" he reached up for the mokeskin pouch hanging around his neck. But, just as Harry put his hand on the Elder wand, the man disarmed him.

How could he have been so stupid? If Hermione had been there-

But, wait, he thought.

He stared up at man. That had been the man he'd seen in his visions from Voldemort. He was much younger, but he had been searching his mind for this man for months. He recognized him completely.

It was Gregorovich, and he had done exactly what Harry needed to be done. So quickly and easily.

Harry smiled and then, before Gregorovich could say anything else, Harry apparated away just down the street.

Two days later, Harry- who was staying in the small town- heard in the pub that Gregorovich had been bragging about a wand he'd disarmed from a boy. The all powerful wand he'd been searching for.

That night, Harry left and two weeks later, he was sitting in the railway station, waiting on the train to arrive to take him to Paris and then to London.

As the steam engine rolled into the station, he stood up and found the section of the train that was printed on his ticket.

He stepped into his compartment and sat down by the window. The train was the first train he'd been on so far to remind him so much of the Hogwarts Express, with its red seats and the compartments. He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed his scar, which honestly never hurt him anymore, but he couldn't help but reach up and touch it at the sudden memories of his rides to Hogwarts- something that wouldn't really happen for ninety two years.

"Entschuldigung. Bist du-"

Harry looked up and was just looking away before he took a double take that made his neck burst in pain.

It couldn't be…

"Oh, you're English," said the handsome golden haired boy with a German accent that wasn't nearly as heavy as Gregorovich's or many of the other German's he'd spoken to. This boy seemed like he spoke English often, and probably with good reason. He had a slight English accent underneath the German. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice cracking. This had to be him. "I'm fine."

Grindelwald.

He stuffed the bag he had in the upper railing and then sat down across from Harry by the window.

"Hm," Grindelwald said, checking his pocket watch out from his waist coat. "Five minutes until the train leaves."

Harry checked his own, and he was right. The train would leave at three. He looked back up and watched Grindelwald nervously for a second.

This man had killed and had cruel ideas for Muggles. He wasn't as bad as Voldemort, and Dumbledore had trusted him once, but that didn't make Harry any less worried to be in the same compartment as him. Somehow, miraculously, they'd gotten the same seating, and for some reason, he was conversing with someone who could have easily been a Muggle.

"Are you going back to England?" Grindelwald asked, noticing Harry staring at him.

"Er, yeah, I am," Harry said.

"I am, as well," he said, with a slight haughtiness that reminded Harry vaguely of Draco. "I'm staying with my auntie this summer. My name is Gellert, by the way."

"Er, Harry," he said.

Gellert held out his hand. Harry looked at it for a second before he shook his hand.

"Huh," Gellert said, staring at Harry's hand and then looking up to catch sight of his mokeskin pouch around his neck. His dark blue eyes fell onto the scar on Harry's forehead. By habit, Harry pushed his hair down over it. "Does the word Durmstrang mean anything to you?"

"The school?" Harry asked, his heart pounding.

Gellert smirked. "You're Hogwarts, aren't you?"

"No, I was home-schooled," Harry said, keeping with the story he'd set up before for Professor Black. "But I spent some time at Hogwarts this year."

"Did you? Was it as good as everyone says?"

"It's excellent," said Harry.

Gellert nodded slowly, lifting his hand up to his face to pick at his skin. "My auntie Hilda was telling me about a student there. He's apparently the best in the school with loads of rewards and published articles. I don't know if you'd have heard of him, but Aunt Hilda's going to introduce us once Hogwarts lets out."

Now Harry's heart seemed to feel like it was trying to bust its way out of his chest. He hadn't felt this aware of his heart since right before Voldemort cast the Avada Kedavra at him in the forest.

Would there be a way to stop them meeting? Could there be? Harry couldn't do anything to Grindelwald, though. He couldn't kill him or obliviate him. He just couldn't. There would be no way, and apparently Grindelwald was just as strong of a wizard as Dumbledore. He doubted he could fight against him, especially one who was nearly the opposite in personality to Dumbledore, but just as strong.

Harry had been planning to go to Flamel's house once he got back, before he went back to Godric's Hollow to talk to Dumbledore.

Now, Harry wondered if he should go to Hogwarts instead, to try to persuade Dumbledore not to talk to Grindelwald.

But, would it be worth it to save Dumbledore from the boy who sat in front of him?

Would Dumbledore be as kind hearted in the future if he never met Grindelwald? He'd most likely not be a Hogwarts Professor or the Headmaster later.

Harry felt conflicted. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he thought about what he could do.

And as he studied Grindelwald in front of him, the conflict in himself was tremendous. What could he do now?

The train lurched forward.

This would be a very long trainride.

* * *

_A/N: Before anyone asks… The idea that the wand is going from the future to the past in an infinite circle thing… that, in my mind, can be explained by McGonagall's answer to the Ravenclaw common room question in book 7. "Where do Vanished objects go? Into nonbeing, which is to say, everything." Basically, my reasoning is that it was vanished at some point and then returned through Harry. It's hard to explain my thought process. Sorry about that :\ But, yeah. It's just in an infinite circle now based on time travel continuum. Harry won't have the wand when he's in the future again. It's gone now. But yeah._

_Also, sorry if the Gregorovich stuff isn't the best. I was getting antsy and wanted to get to Grindelwald… sorry :[ _

_I updated a little later than I meant to. I had to get caught up on schoolwork for the tests I had this week, and I was working on getting a car__ and just stuff._

_I want to try to update every week or two from now on. I'm FINALLY getting to the part I've been working toward for two years now: the summer with Grindelwald. I can't believe how long that's been! I started this on April 29th, 2010, but didn't post it until August 2010. This is the longest I've ever stuck to a fan fiction and it's so exciting to me. The response is more fantastic than I thought. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and kept up with this story after so many breaks in between. _

_Please review! I always appreciate that._


	19. 19: Speak Your Thoughts

**Chapter 19: Speak Your Thoughts**

* * *

Harry watched the country side pass by. Gellert had reached up to get a book out of his bag and was currently reading it. Harry didn't know what the subject of the book was, but he was sure it was a magic book that had been transfigured into one that looked like a Muggle book.

"How old are you?" Gellert asked, suddenly looking up at Harry as they passed through the country side in France toward Paris.

"I'm 18," he said. "Yourself?"

"17," he said. "Thank Merlin."

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

He sighed and dropped his book beside him. "I can finally do magic outside of school and my mother finally let me come to England on my own. You know what I mean, right? Parents being so overbearing. It's a nightmare."

Harry didn't know about parents, but he nodded, anyway. He'd been around enough teachers. Dumbledore had even kept him locked up at the Dursley's for long enough with little information about what was going on.

He also understood the feeling of being free. He'd felt it after Voldemort was gone and after all the funerals. One day he had been out with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione near the pond at The Burrow. They were all sitting at the edge of the pond, talking quietly to each other about things that didn't involve the war or Fred, and it had been nice.

"Any reason why you're going to England?" Harry asked.

"Just to visit auntie," he said.

Harry had a feeling he was lying, but didn't think it would be the best idea to question that any further.

"Why were you in Germany?" Gellert asked.

"I had to deliver something," he said.

"Work related?"

"No," Harry said.

Gellert studied him again. Harry couldn't make eye contact with him. He wasn't sure if Gellert was a occlumens or not. He had to be careful.

"What's your work, anyway?" Gellert asked, looking him up and down again. "I don't know what a home-schooled wizard would do."

"I was actually the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching assistant for a few months this year," Harry said.

"Impressive," he said, nodding approvingly. "As an apprentice?" Harry nodded, thinking he might as well say being Merrythought's assistant was that. He couldn't risk explaining anything to someone like Gellert.

There was a slight pause.

"Durmstrang doesn't use much defense," said Gellert, glancing out the window. Harry thought he spotted the faintest ghost of a mischievous smile on his face, but put that off as some kind of arrogance. "They've always taught us to know the Dark Arts before you learn how to defend against them. That way you understand them completely. I believe in that very strongly. Though, with a Headmaster like yours, the students should be learning more Dark Arts. I heard the Black family is notorious in the English Wizarding world."

There was no denying now that the grin Gellert had was an impish smile, and Harry got the feeling that he actually liked the Dark Arts and couldn't care less about the defense.

Then, Harry remembered whom he was speaking to. Of course he loved the Dark Arts! He was the second most evil wizard in the twentieth century! Harry didn't necessarily like him, but he didn't seem as horrible as Voldemort. Dumbledore had trusted him for a while.

"So you do know that person I was talking about."

That pulled Harry out of his thoughts. "What?" he asked.

"The boy at Hogwarts. The smart one. Dumbfore or something."

"Dumbledore," Harry said, correcting him. "Yes, I know of him," Harry lied.

"Is he really as talented as my auntie said?"

"Better."

Gellert stared at him for a while. Harry looked at the boy's mouth, seeing how the edges curled in another grin. He looked up to his eyes and saw they had the slightest twinkle in them, as if this delighted him.

"This will be an interesting summer, then."

Harry felt panic rise in his chest. "You think you'll see him a lot?"

Grindelwald shrugged and stood up. "I'm going to track down the trolley. Do you want anything?"

Harry shook his head and Gellert left without another word.

Harry didn't know what to think. Somehow, Harry felt he'd had a conversation like that before. He'd heard the words he'd just said- "You think you'll see him a lot?"- and it was only brought up to his consciousness after Gellert left the compartment.

He thought hard for a moment. Where had that come from? He'd just been repeated someone else's words.

An image of Aberforth came into his head. But not the old one he knew in his time. He couldn't remember anything the 15 year old said; he actually hadn't really had many conversations with that Aberforth. Only the ones from when he was in detention with the grindylows.

How had those words been associated with the Dumbledore family before?

But, then, it came to him.

It was three days after the last of the funerals that he'd gone to after the battle. He still hadn't shook his thoughts about going to Snape's funeral, how he saw Snape's mother there and only handful of students he'd taught in the past. That had been the loneliest funeral he'd gone to, but not the saddest because he was sure Fred's topped the list with that… George's speech that had trailed off half way through as he broke down, more vulnerable than Harry or any of his friends and family had ever seen the other twin be.

Harry had been sitting on a stage before the press and Ministry workers in the center of the grand entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione sat beside him as Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the podium, talking into the crowd for the official press release and medals ceremony. Harry would be receiving Order of Merlin First Class, but he didn't want it. He stared down at his hands, feeling dazed from all the flashing lights and the memories.

He knew he was coming on to his crash after the adrenaline rush that had flowed through him since the battle and after as he attended the funerals. He was sure the funerals were the only things that had kept him going for so long. But, now, all that he wanted to do was sleep for days on end and not have to worry about Voldemort or the war anymore.

"-To Harry Potter."

He looked up. He had no idea what Kingsley had just said, but he stood up when he saw that Kingsley was gesturing to him.

A heavy weight fell across his chest before he knew it. He stared down at the heavy medal now laying on his chest in the exact spot the Horcrux had left a scar, and then Kingsley stepped away from the podium, allowing Harry to speak.

He blinked as the flashing began heavily again. He couldn't see a thing, but that was probably best.

"Good afternoon," he'd said, his strong voice surprising him. "I'm sure you'd all agree that it's been a very long few decades. It's been a long journey, and I've only been apart of it for 18 years this July."

He paused, hearing quills scratching down his every word.

"I agreed to come speak to you all today only because I feel it is a chance to remind everyone of what this war has done to the Wizarding and even Muggle community. There have been so many lives taken and families torn apart since Tom Riddle rose to power as Voldemort. The truth about Voldemort does not lie in his prejudice opinions of magical blood or his obsession with power. He was not only a true genius that chose to use his powers for only himself, to keep himself from dying, but someone who was more complicated than that.."

Harry took in a breath, glancing at Hermione. She smiled and nodded, giving him quiet reassurance that he was doing fine.

"Albus Dumbledore knew Tom very well. He'd kept an eye on him all throughout his school years at Hogwarts and learned as much as he could about him, which he passed on to me in my sixth year at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was very adamant about me learning about Voldemort's past before I could-" Harry paused, looking down at his hands, "end him. I learned about his motivations and his family and I learned something that was vital about his thoughts and views.

"In turn, for years before I even knew of a prophecy that helped determine my destiny, Professor Dumbledore made sure I understood what Voldemort knew not. He always told me it was my love for my family and friends that has helped save me throughout the years. Love and choices are the most important things in this world. He once said to me that it is our choices rather than our abilities that make us who we are.

"Voldemort knew neither the importance of love and the importance of choice. He never knew love, having grown up in a callous environment. He never learned the importance of choice, either. He could have chose many other paths, but, instead, he chose to use his powers as a way to gain power and immortality, rather than attempt to find love in a world he knew in his heart could provide him none. He never attempted to find or understand love, and that was where the problem was."

Harry closed his eyes again and then lifted his head up to stare out into the crowd for the first time. He thought about every funeral he'd been to. Fred, Snape, Remus, Tonks, Colin, and Dumbledore's from a year before. Had that really only been a year ago? He thought about each them, how each of them smiled and laughed before that got completely blocked by the pain and suffering they'd gone through during their years- Snape and Dumbledore especially. How they'd suffered so much for love, but learned so much from it.

"Today should be felt as a way to celebrate. As glad as I am that Voldemort is gone, I am not rejoicing in the fact that he is gone. He has hurt and killed too many for me to feel the same happiness. His deeds have caused a great weight on the Wizarding world. I believe that this is a time to rebuild instead of focusing on the past, because if we dwell too much on that, then the only place we'll be is somewhere that is intangible.

"I ask you all to remember those lost and those who have suffered at the hands of Lord Voldemort, and to also keep in mind the horrors that Voldemort has caused us. But do not dwell on it. Keep the love you know you have and choose to do great things that only better yourselves and the community. We have a lot to do to rebuild and that will only come to those who think of the world as one piece rather than separate pieces in times that are difficult. Thank you."

Harry turned away from the flashing lights and the scratching quills. As he sat back down next to Hermione, she grinned. "That was really good," she said to him.

He smiled and looked away, down to the left. There, in the doorway, he saw a retreating figure of a grey haired man. Just before he disappeared completely, he looked up and caught eyes with Harry. Those clear clue eyes twinkled before he turned away completely.

"Do you think you'll see him a lot?" asked Hermione.

Harry didn't respond. He just concentrated on the darkness of the hall.

He'd gone to see the retreating figure for the first time the next day, but it wasn't until the fourth time he visited Aberforth that he said anything about being at the press conference the other day.

"That was a nice speech, Potter," he said. "How much of that was made up of my brother's quotes?"

Harry only laughed and brought the butterbeer up to his lips.

Now, as Harry sat in the compartment, he thought about the Dumbledores, how their mother and sister were near death and this boy he'd just met was a cause of one of those deaths.

He was lost. Should he really just let them die? But what would that mean for Albus Dumbledore? Would he feel the same way about Voldemort and about Harry if half his family was gone?

Harry jumped abruptly. That had been a huge blast he heard, hadn't it been?

He stood up, his heart pounding as he looked out into the corridor.

A blonde boy was running toward him. It took him a moment to realize it was Gellert retreating from a compartment filled with smoke. Harry's eyes widened as Gellert reached him and pushed him into the compartment. He grabbed his bags from overhead and the book from the seat.

"I did nothing!" he yelled before there was a crack and he was gone.

Harry blinked, astounded.

Then, he ran down the hall to see what had happened.

A Muggle man in a suit lay unconscious in his compartment. Either dead or alive, he couldn't tell as a woman in a fancy hat attended to him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The blonde boy!" she said, her accent French. "He did this. I do not know what happened. They had a fight in German. He did something, but I do not know much of it."

Harry sighed, his decision made up.

Albus had to learn. He had to. He'd taught Harry so much about love and choices. If Dumbledore didn't learn through his experiences, then who would bring down Grindelwald and who would help Harry defeat Voldemort?

He wouldn't let Dumbledore meet Grindelwald alone, at least.

When the man was determined to just have suffered a concussion, Harry went back to his compartment and made the plan that he wished Hermione had been there to help him with.

* * *

Albus smiled as he downed his dress robes a week later. Today was the day. He was finally graduating Hogwarts with the plan to journey across Europe before he went to work in the Ministry.

"Ready, Elphias?" he asked him as he pocketed his wand and adjusted his long hair over his shoulders

"Yes, sir," he said happily as they left the room, which had already been packed up and cleaned. Albus didn't look back on it. He'd already mourned it gradually rather than all at once. "I can't believe it's finally here!"

He didn't mind that it was the last time he'd walk through these halls. He stared around, anyway, taking in everything. He said good-bye to his favorite portrait of a man who had been a dragon fighter in 1300, and waved to his classmates as they said bye to him already.

As they approached the Great Hall, Elphias smiled up at him. "Good luck with your speech. I'm sure it'll be excellent."

"Thank you. I'll see you afterward and we can go down to the train together."

He smiled, shook Albus' hand, and left him to straight into Great Hall. Albus had to meet with Professor Black and Merrythought to walk in with them and the other teachers.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway off to the side of the Great Hall, he found Merrythought watching nervously for him. "There you are, Dumbledore," she said as she straightened out his robes unnecessarily. "Oh, you look handsome. Are you ready to graduate? Do you have your speech ready?

He nodded, raising his eyebrows at her nervousness. "Professor, what's wrong?" he asked. They were only graduating. There was nothing to be nervous about. She wasn't even going to speak.

Suddenly, her eyes watered and he understood.

"Oh, Professor, it's okay," he said. "You'll see me again."

She shook her head, wiping her tears off her face and taking a deep breath. "You've been very good student, Albus. I'm just proud of you."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said.

She straightened up immediately after that and wandered off to Professor Black to speak to him normally. Albus smiled and shook his head. He didn't understand women sometimes.

After a few minutes of running his speech through his head again for the sixth time that day, all the teachers lined up. Merrythought pulled him over to her and he stood in front of her, directly behind Black.

Then, they proceeded into the Great Hall that had been transformed into rows of chairs. He spotted Elphias immediately amongst the chatting students and families. Albus knew there was no use to look for his mom and sister. They wouldn't be there, even though there were seats in the back reserved for families of the graduates. He knew his brother would be back there, but he didn't bother looking. Instead, he smiled at Elphias, and then sat down beside Merrythought.

Professor Black went straight to the podium and the hall quieted down as he said "Sonorus," with his wand pointed to his vocal chords.

"Good Morning students, parents', and faculty of Hogwarts," he said. "Today we celebrate the 913th graduating class of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Albus went through the speech again, hardly caring to listen to Professor Black. He pretended to look as if he was listening patiently and respectfully, but he had to admit to himself that he was a little nervous.

And before he knew it, he heard his name called. "Today we have an excellent student speaker. He is one of Hogwarts' most diligent students, having already received many, many awards- of which I could not possibly name all- for his contributions to Transfiguration and Alchemy studies. He writes regularly for Transfiguration Today and has had numerous offers from many of the Ministry of Magic departments for work after school. It has been my pleasure to watch him throughout the years as he achieved so much already in his 18 years. I'm sure he will have a very large impact on the Wizarding world in the future. Please welcome Albus Dumbledore."

The nervousness went away as he smiled kindly and stood from his seat. He stepped up to the podium and performed the Sonorus spell as well.

"Good morning-" he paused, laughing at the sound of his voice amplified so much. "Odd, this spell. It's truly wonderful." The crowd laughed and he felt himself ease more at the podium. "Thank you, Professor Black, for that introduction. As he has said, my name is Albus Dumbledore and I am honored to represent this graduating class. I feel this generation of Hogwarts will do many great things in the future."

He paused, staring out at the faces of his peers.

"I, like everyone else in this room, have no idea where the future will take us. I will not ramble on about the past, because I feel as if that will get us all nowhere. Things have already been established there. I could talk about the present, but what good is that when we're all sitting in this Great Hall, listening to some odd young man bamble on? But-

He paused again.

"The future."

He stopped there for a moment, still surveying the students. "It's an unknowable place. What will happen in the next minute? What will happen tomorrow or, even more radical, a hundred years from now? How are we supposed to know how to continue after we have been placed into a safe place such as Hogwarts for seven years? There is so much that can happen and so much that can be forced upon us unknowingly. There could be happy times of peace and prosperity, but then again, there could be times of uncertainty, of war and tragedy that we would have to overcome.

"For years, I have been working toward the future, to this day where I am free to make a career that will bring me the opportunities that I wish to have. It's strange to be here, standing before everyone. It's like a faraway dream that I have been dwelling on has come true without me truly realizing it.

"But what am I supposed to do with this sudden opportunity that I have worked so hard for? I only have so much knowledge that I can use to make the most of the future, so how are we supposed to create an ultimate happiness that benefits everyone? How can we prevent wars that may or may not happen in the future? How can peace and prosperity possibly be realized?"

He searched for Aberforth. He didn't know why, but he did. He found him sitting in the very back corner, his arms crossed as Albus spoke. He turned his head away when Albus caught his eye.

"I believe this can be achieved through action. We must act if we want the greatest happiness. We must sort out our own responsibilities and use that to the benefit of the majority. We all must take part in creating the best future for ourselves, rather than standing by and letting others do it for us. We must choose to act on what is right, and we must make procedure to understand our intentions and create the best set of outcomes to avoid any wrong doing in the future.

"The strengths of each person need to combine to create a stable environment. With compassion and choice, we can succeed in making the future a happy place to live and work."

Everyone sat in silence. He stared across the Great Hall for another long moment. Elphias' mouth hung open slightly.

He took in a deep breath. "We can achieve great things. As I stand up here today, I beg each and every one of you to think of the future, to make choices that connect to your strengths and make you who you are. With compassion and love, we can all make the future a place where all are happy. Graduates, you have been given this opportunity to do great things. You have the knowledge and skill to have made it to this day, where you know enough to make a career. I congratulate you on your success of graduating Hogwarts, but most importantly, I grant you the best for the future. Thank you."

He released the spell.

The crowd clapped politely. Albus sat back down next to Merrythought, who was staring at him. He ignored her as Professor Black went back to the podium.

"Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore, for that enlightening speech. Now we will proceed with calling out the graduates names."

Albus was happy once his name was called right after Elphias. He joined him down with the students rather than staying up with the teachers.

As the rest of the names were called, Elphias leaned to him. "What was that speech? Trying to put propaganda on the students? This is a school, Albus, not the government."

Albus didn't respond. Instead, he clapped as "Suzie McAuley" was called.

"Albus."

"What? These people are the government," he said back. And it was true. Most would go on to work for Ministry of Magic. They'd been confined to the school for so long, why not talk about the government now when they're about to start work in it?

When the ceremony was over, everyone seemed congregated in the Entrance Hall, hugging each other and collecting their trunks that the House Elves had placed in in there. Then, they all made there way down to Hogsmeade for the Hogwarts Express.

Albus only looked up once as he boarded the train with Aberforth.

The castle loomed over them.

And Albus felt his eyes prickle finally.

"Bye, Hogwarts," he said softly.

He would miss it more than he could ever know.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, sorry again for another long wait. My grandpa died in late February and school has been a nightmare. I've just somehow gotten really into writing this past week. But, anyway, sorry again for that long break and please review if you'd like to. If school doesn't kill me in the next couple weeks (and it's very likely, honestly. Come to my funeral?), expect another update very, very soon!

Hopefully you understand the speeches. I was trying to get at the Greater Good in Dumbledore's speech. Hopefully it's okay.


	20. 20: Dark World Aches

**Chapter 20: Dark World Aches**

* * *

Aberforth Dumbledore crossed his arms tightly across his chest and furrowed his brow as Albus happily counted his luggage outside of their little cottage house.

"I think I have everything," Albus said when he finished, standing up happily and rocking on his heels for a moment. Aberforth couldn't help but roll his eyes as their mother wrapped her arms around Albus's neck.

"Be careful," she said. "You may come home at any time if there's a problem, but I hope that won't be the case. I expect you to learn a lot and write down everything that happened."

"I will. Thank you, mother," he said.

Aberforth crossed his arms even more tightly. He could just imagine what would happen when he went on his world tour in two years- 'Be careful, don't cause trouble. I know you and your temper.' Of course she wouldn't say that to Albus. She just told him to learn everything he could possibly learn. Albus caused more trouble than Aberforth sometimes. Where was his 'stay out of trouble?'

When their mother let go of Albus, he turned to Aberforth. Aberforth just stared at him for a moment as Albus pushed his hair out of his eyes. Then, Albus stepped forward without hesitation and hugged Aberforth. He jumped, surprised, and then pushed Albus away instantly.

"Abe!" Mother said in scold.

Albus seemed hurt, his eyes suddenly loosing their usual twinkle and he turned away, picking up his bag and shrinking his trunk like it hadn't been a big deal.

"I'll see you in a month," Albus said to both of them. "Bye."

"Bye, Albus," Mother said.

Aberforth turned away and went back inside before Albus even disappeared.

He sat down beside Ariana at the kitchen table. She had Aberforth's charcoal and was drawing circles on a piece of parchment. Aberforth smiled, "Looks excellent, Ariana," and then grabbed the leather journal Albus had gotten him for his fifteenth birthday and began drawing in the empty spaces that he'd missed.

He hated to admit it, but he really did love that journal. It was already filled to the last page and as much as he didn't want Albus to spend his money on him just because he knew it probably felt like a burden to Albus, Aberforth hoped he'd bring back a notebook for him as a gift.

Though, he guessed the greatest gift of all was the fact that Albus would be gone for a month. He could finally relax and have fun without his older, idiotic brother who had to meddle in everything watching on.

"Aberforth," Mother called from outside. He looked toward the open window, seeing her standing near there. "Why don't you bring Ariana out to the backyard for a while?"

He smiled, grabbing her hand and walked her outside to let her feed the goats.

* * *

The rest of the day felt absolutely perfect until he went down to the village. He played with Ariana, helped his mother make goat cheese and even helped her with dinner. He even went down to the village to get bread for a couple days.

Going there by himself was especially leisurely. Usually Albus pushed him along and didn't let him talk to anyone, but once he got to the market and picked up a loaf of bread, he stopped at the counter where Sylvia Henderson stood. She was a witch and married, but he could still admire the way her hair was pinned back and how beautiful her features were.

"Hello, Dumbledore," she said with a smile.

And that's where everything went downhill.

"Where's your brother?" she asked. "I thought he'd be here with you."

Aberforth suppressed a sigh as he dug into his pocket for the money. Everyone just loved Albus, even the married women. No one could stop talking about him. Couldn't she have asked how he was? "He's on his world tour right now," he said as she took the knut.

"Oh, did he graduate this year? That's wonderful."

Thank Merlin. He wouldn't be down Aberforth's back for the next two years. "Yeah, he's very excited."

Sylvia nodded and looked up when the door to a backroom opened. Her husband, a tall man with thick brown hair, stood at the door, staring at her expectantly with a list in piece of parchment and a quill in his large hand. She turned back to Aberforth. "Well, good-bye Dumbledore. I'm coming, Samuel."

Aberforth sat down at a bench in the middle of the town square, watching people pass by. He wished he had his journal with him, but of course he forgot to bring it.

A few people stopped to say hello to him as he sat there. Three of them asked what Albus planned on doing as soon as he got back from his trip, and only one asked how Aberforth and his mother were doing. This was a kind old lady who worked in a floral shop across from where he was sitting. She handed him a flower to give to his mother.

But the worse visit was from a man with a long grey beard who sat down next to him and talked to him about Albus' last _Transfiguration Today_ article. He remembered Albus working on that one in the Common Room in between working on his little light catcher contraption. All Aberfroth did was nod along as the man talked.

He was glad when he walked away.

Aberforth wondered why he was even sitting there. At first, he thought it would nice to be there by himself without Albus pushing him along, but most just ignored him and when they did talk to him, he was only bothered. Something kept him there, though.

The sun was just beginning to set when a boy about his age sat down near him at the square's fountain with a life-size sculpture of a lion sitting proudly and surveying the village with wise eyes.

The boy stared up at the lion, his blonde hair hanging nearly to his shoulders. Aberforth watched him. He's seen all the people that he'd talked to that day before, but this boy… he'd never seen him in his life.

Then, the boy turned his head and Aberforth looked away quickly as if he hadn't been staring. He stood up and began to walk away, but he heard footsteps padding along almost silently before they fell into rhythm by his. He could feel the boy's magic radiating off him and he swore he felt a familiar twinge to it, like the feeling he got when Albus was particularly mad.

"Hello," the boy said. There was a slight accent that Aberforth couldn't quite place in his words. "How old are you?"

Aberforth ignored him, walking faster. The boy kept up with him easily, though, much to Aberforth's irritation.

"Silent type, huh?" the boy said. "I can respect that."

Aberforth sent a glare at him as they passed by the Henderson's store. Sylvia was out sweeping off the steps. She looked up and immediately caught eyes with Aberforth.

"Good night, Dumbledore," she said, smiling and waving as she stepped inside the store to sweep off the entrance.

"Good night," Aberforth said back.

The boy kept following him, and once they were out of earshot to Sylvia, the boy said, "You're Albus?"

Aberforth took in a heavy breath and the grunted out, "No. Why does everyone have to mention him to me? I can think, too, you know."

The boy smirked. "I didn't mean anything by that. My auntie has just been mentioning Albus to me all year long. I didn't know if you were him or Aberforth."

Aberforth looked up, surprised. He knew his name? Most just called him Dumbledore, even though they called Albus by his first name. It was like he was the lesser of two, and he really supposed he was.

"I'm Aberforth, obviously," he said. "You'd know Albus if you saw him. He's tall and just looks like he's powerful."

The boy clasped his hands to together behind his back and surveyed him softly. "I'm sure you're much more powerful than you make yourself out to be. But, who knows… Maybe Albus is just, you know, an anomaly. I met this one man about a week ago in Germany. He says he knew Albus. Said Albus was a better wizard than I think he is, and I already think he's very intelligent, even though I haven't even got to meet him yet."

Aberforth looked off to the right in a half eye roll. He spotted the church graveyard and cringed slightly. He never liked looking at the graveyard. It always seemed too eerie for him.

"And whom was it that you met?"

The boy shrugged. "Dreadfully messy black hair, round glasses, strange scars. Even odder accent."

Aberforth blinked. It couldn't be… What was Potter doing in Germany? "Yeah?"

The boy nodded. "Said he worked at Hogwarts. Very odd. I got a sense he was lying. He was too young be-"

"No, he wasn't lying," Aberforth said. "He left in November, because of some kind of investigation."

The boy's eyebrows raised and his eyes twinkled slightly as he smirked. "Really? He didn't seem like a rule breaker type to me. What did he do? Inappropriate magic on a student?"

Aberforth shook his head, but didn't say anything. He knew the reason, but he wasn't about to tell whomever this guy was what happened. He couldn't tell anyone. Who would believe him if he said Harry Potter was from the future?

"What business is it to me, anyway?" the boy said, sighing. "I'll probably never meet him again." He paused and pulled out his wand, lighting it as the sun went down under the trees. Aberforth stared at it. It wasn't smooth like any he had seen before- instead, it seemed like it had tumors running down it. Aberforth got a deep feeling of dread as he looked at it, like the wand didn't want to be lit like that.

"Do you like it?" the boy asked, apparently seeing what Aberforth was staring at. "My old one broke not too long ago. I got fitted with this one. Nice, isn't it?"

Aberforth turned to look at the road ahead, a shiver running down his spine.

"My name is Gellert, by the way," the boy said as they walked pass the Potter's cottage. Aberforth could see a candle in the window and Atticus Potter reading by it.

"Where are you from?" Aberforth asked Gellert.

"Berlin," he said. Aberforth realized where his accent was from now and also realized who he his auntie was. Bathila Bagshot had a sister who was married to a German man.

And, in fact, Gellert stopped right in front of Bathilda's house when they passed by.

"Well, guten abend," said Gellert.

"And what does that mean?" Aberforth asked, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Good evening, Dumbledore."

Gellert ran up to the front door and as Aberforth stepped away from the gate, he blinked a few times, wondering what in the world that meeting was. His last thought before he opened up the gate to his house a minute later was Gellert was even stranger than Albus.

He closed the door behind him and hoped Albus would never get to meet that boy.

* * *

The darkness blinded Harry. Sometimes he wished he were still in the future where there were street lamps.

But, here he was, standing in the Dumbledores' yard in the complete darkness, with only a half moon for light. He could easily wait for the morning to talk to Aberforth, but he had no idea if Ariana would be with him and he didn't know how Ariana would react to him, so it was best for him to talk now, when Aberforth was hopefully in his own bedroom.

Harry had been trailing Aberforth all day. He thought about going to The Leaky Cauldron where Albus was, but he knew he had to stay there to try to stop Gellert, and to see what he could do about Kendra Dumbledore. He didn't want Kendra to die but… He didn't want to think about it yet.

Instead, he'd followed Aberforth into town, watching as he went into the market and came out before going into the square. He watched as he interacted to the people in town- how he scowled as they walked away after something they said. He watched as a man sat with him and saw how Aberforth crossed his arms tightly across his arms as the man talked.

But, his heart pounded heavily in his chest when he saw Grindelwald sit down at the fountain beside Aberforth and how Aberforth left with him.

That had scared Harry nearly to death. He heart rate was higher than it had been since the hours before Voldemort finally died, when he was walking to his death in the forest.

It slowed down, though, once Gellert left Aberforth. But, still, this was not what Harry wanted to happen. He didn't want the Dumbledores to interact with Gellert at all, and now Aberforth had met him.

He had to keep Aberforth and Albus away from him. He needed to talk to Aberforth.

He took in a deep breath as placed a hand on the door of the house.

But then, he heard a noise- a low creak, as if a window was sliding open. He jumped, looking for the source of the noise.

It was silent, but then he heard a scream from inside the house.

Harry tugged at the door- it was locked, but he uttered a quick Alohomora and rushed as quickly as he could toward the scream.

"Ariana!" Harry heard a woman say. Harry's stomach seemed to drop as a girl's scream continued on. He stopped dead at the door of an open room. As the girl screamed, a whirlwind of papers and toys spun around the room, all speeding around her. Sparks shocked out of nowhere and erupted all over the room.

The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up. He stood there, wishing he could do something, but the girl's scream was so piercing that it made him feel like he'd pass out, and goosebumps flared across his skin as Kendra's screams- which could hardly be heard under the shrill screams- cried out, "Ariana! Ariana! It's all right. It's fine! You're fine!"

Harry heard running footsteps to the side, but in the moment that it took for him too look at Aberforth, there was a lower scream. A feeling of dread passed through his chest as the lighting scorched through the wooden floor and caused fires all across the room and then he heard a drop of someone falling, another scream. More calming voices.

Harry fought to stay upright, sure that his eardrums would be shot as soon as it sopped.

And then, the wind slowed. The fires were reduced to smoke and the girl's screams turned into a small whimpering.

Harry stared at the scene before him. As Aberforth hugged Ariana tightly, shushing her and rubbing her back calmingly, he stared at his mother's body on the floor. His eyes were wide, his face completely white.

It was obvious that he knew exactly what happened to his mother. She wasn't there. Her chest wasn't moving at all. Her eyes were wide, unseeing, unmoving in the moon light leaking through the window.

Ariana's cries didn't calm. Aberforth's eyes hardly blinked.

Harry became so aware of his beating heart as he stared at yet another body of someone who was once living. That had all happened so quickly. Much too quickly.

He didn't know what to do.

* * *

Albus smiled at the bar of The Leaky Cauldron, putting down a couple knuts for the glass of firewhiskey the barman handed him. He slipped out from around the bar and found Elphias sitting at a table.

"I can't wait to leave for Greece tomorrow," Albus said as he sipped the firewhiskey.

"I know! It'll be great," Elphias said, his face already somewhat red and glistening from alcohol. "Oh, look, someone's about to play piano!"

Albus smiled, turning toward the piano across the room. The melody was fast and loud. He laughed as the pub goers began singing Odo the Hero. Albus began singing along loudly, feeling happier than he had felt in a long while. The music filled his heart and made him feel whole. An even greater feeling came when most of the people stood up to begin a dance. Albus stayed where he was, though, feeling his heart swell with even more joy.

"Albus!"

Albus looked around, looking for girl who called his name. He saw Merrythought standing there, a glass of amber liquid in her hand.

"Professor! How are you?"

"I'm great. I didn't expect to see you so soon!" she said, smiling widely. "Come dance with me!"

He had no choice as she grabbed his hand and they went out into the crowd where others were dancing to the new song playing.

"Be sure to go to Breton's and Alver's when you're on your tour. They have wonderful books," Merrythought said as they danced around. The piano player started on an Irish step dance. Merrythought smiled even louder as they all began to move with the same dance.

"I still think you should have taken a job at Hogwarts," Merrythought said after a long pause of not talking, just merrymaking to the sound of music. "We need a new library research assistant. You'd be great for that."

Albus shook his head. "I've already taken the job as Junior Undersecretary."

"Shame. You would be better doing research in an academic environment, or even being a professor. I saw how you were teaching everyone before the N.E.W.T.s."

He smiled and shook his head again. Nothing could convince him to change the career that he wanted. He would begin at the Ministry the day he got back from the world tour.

"I'm fine where I am, Professor."

"Okay, but if you ever find out you don't want to be in politics, there'll always be a place at Hogwarts for you and for anyone who is in need of it."

Albus smiled at her, though his corners of his eyes seemed to prickle. He thought about Hogwarts, and now that he was gone from it, he actually felt like he hadn't really left it. Not really.

"Thank you," he said softly. "But I'll be fine."

She smiled sadly.

When the song stopped, Merrythought hugged him. "Good luck, Dumbledore. Come see me when you get back from your tour."

And then she was gone.

Albus sat down by Elphias again.

"You look especially tired right now, and not in a good way," Elphias said in observation.

Albus shrugged, sipping at his firewhiskey again.

The rest of the evening was fine. He still felt happier than usual, and when Albus and Elphias went up to their rented to room, Albus fell onto his bed, exhausted and ready for the morning.

He fell asleep immediately.

* * *

He jumped awake at the knock on the door. He stared around for a moment, catching eyes with Elphias. He wondered who would ring so late, in the middle of the night. For a moment, he wondered if it was Merrythought, though she had no reason to see him again that night.

He rolled out of bed and looked through the peephole in the door.

Cadmus Potter.

His heart skipped a beat. This couldn't be good. What was the Head Auror doing here? What had happened?

He opened the door, allowing Cadmus to step in solemnly. Something really had happened.

"Hello, Dumbledore," he said tiredly, looking worn.

"Something wrong?" Albus asked. He could feel dread passing through his body.

He sighed and nodded.

And as Cadmus Potter said those words, a shock went through his body. His body seemed to wake up, no longer tired at all. Cadmus put a hand on his shoulder as his eyes widened. His chest erupted in pain, and his stomach, which still had alcohol in it, turned. _No. Please, no. This can't be true. No._

"I'm very sorry," Cadmus said.

_Please. No. It couldn't be true._

But it was.

His mother was dead.

* * *

A/N: I'm very sorry. So sorry. I didn't want to do it, but I did. I've never written a death onscreen before. I wasn't really sure how to do it.

YAY! Finally got to Chapter 20... after two years of writing this... sigh.

Also Gellert's wand. Yeah. Movie version. And, gosh, Aberforth's fun to write.

But, anyway. I need to do a 12 page paper now. Joy. Two more weeks of school left! :D I'm so burnt out already and I still have way too much to do. Sigh.

Please review, I like reviews :) Happy Easter if you celebrate it!


	21. 21: Of Windows, Flames, and Hearts

**Chapter 21: Of Windows, Flames, and Hearts**

* * *

Albus stared at Cadmus as he made a fire in the grate an hour later.

"You don't know what happened, Aberforth?" Cadmus asked as he poked at the wood, coaxing it to become bigger, as if he couldn't just had more flames in it.

Albus tried to look at Aberforth beside him, but Fawkes' plumage got in the way. It was probably best for him not to see Aberforth, anyway. He reached up and stroked Fawkes' head as the bird cooed a soft, comforting song. He suspected that the bird was the only reason why he wasn't crying.

"I don't know," Aberforth said. "Ariana was just screaming. It might have been a bad dream."

"Do you normally keep the windows open at night?" Cadmus asked.

"No, but Ariana knows how to open them. She could have gotten hot and opened it."

"Has she done that before?"

"I don't know."

Cadmus nodded slowly.

"Mr. Potter," Albus said, leaning forward. Fawkes climbed down from his shoulder and stood on his knee, rubbing his head against Albus' hand. "Do you really think someone would have climbed up there? There's not many people who know about Ariana."

"Albus, I can't say anything for sure. Ariana is a disabled girl, who knows what someone could have wanted to do with her."

Aberforth blanched beside Albus. "Don't say that!" he tried to yell, but Fawkes began singing louder. Albus supposed that stopped him from yelling full out. "There's no reason for anyone to hurt her! She's done nothing!"

Cadmus sighed again and stood up straight. "I'm sorry, Aberforth. I'm only trying to give realistic possibilities. I hope you won't think bad of me for that."

"Potter."

Albus turned his head, looking up at the stairway where another Auror stood. Albus could see Ariana's blue eyes staring from where she laid, curled up beside Aberforth. He caught eyes with her and only for an instant he saw a hand on her window sill. That was it before she turned her eyes away from him and stared up at Potter as he crossed the room.

"A hand," Albus whispered.

"What?" Aberforth said.

Albus took in a deep breath and ran a hand over Fawkes' head. "Ariana saw a hand, but that's it."

"She told me earlier," Aberforth said.

"Did you tell him?" Albus asked as Cadmus and the other Auror disappeared up the stairs.

Aberforth sent him a glare. "Yes. I did."

"Then why has he been asking you if Ariana opened the window?"

Aberforth stared at him. "That better be rhetoric. He doesn't believe she really saw the hand because she's, you know."

He stood up and kneeled down next to Ariana, taking her hand. Her eyes wavered over him for a moment before she twisted her hand out of his and began to run it through her hair lightly.

"Ariana, is there anything else you saw?" he asked her.

She shook her head, starting to pull erratically at her braid.

"Stop doing that," Albus said, placing his hand over her hand. She jerked away from him and sat up straight, then curled up against Aberforth.

Albus sighed and stood up. "I'm going to go upstairs and see what they're doing."

But, as soon as he got onto the landing, a witch spotted him. "Go back downstairs, Dumbledore," she said, standing up straight from surveying the wooden floors. "We'll tell you everything when we come down."

"But I just-"

"No," she said sternly. "We're working as fast as we can. Please give us some time."

Albus crossed his arms, and on the way down, he whispered to himself, "I hate not being able to do anything."

Albus sat back down next to Aberforth. Ariana seemed to have fallen asleep in Aberforth's arms as he rocked her slowly.

What was Albus going to do now? He hated that his mother was gone, but what about his dreams? He had so been looking forward to his world tour for years, and now he couldn't go on it. He couldn't leave Ariana and Aberforth alone. They wouldn't be able to make it on their own.

How was he going to work, as well? Aberforth was too immature, and when he went back to school, Albus would have to stay home with Ariana to make sure she was cared for.

So suddenly it felt like all his dreams were blasted into a million pieces. He had to stay home, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Of course something like this would come ruin what he'd worked so hard for. How lucky was he?

He had to be the head of the family now.

Unfortunately.

Aberforth and Albus were both wide awake when Cadmus came back down.

"We've removed-" he paused a moment, sighing. "Well, you know. We'll take care of her, I promise, and bring her back for a funeral in the church graveyard this week."

"And the window?" Albus asked, leaning forward.

"If there was someone there, they've removed any traces of them being there. There was some magical residue, but the person was very thorough. We also found a muddy shoe print in the hallway, but that could have easily been anyone of you."

"I was in town today," Aberforth said softly. "My shoes were dirty."

Cadmus nodded. "Ariana didn't mention anything about anyone coming in completely, so it must have been you."

Aberforth nodded. "I didn't see or hear anyone in the house."

"Good," Cadmus said, looking around for another moment before running his hand through his messy hair. "Well, I'll go inform Mrs. Bagshot now. She'll explain funeral procedure, living arrangements, and all that for you. We'll have a death certificate for you in the morning, as well. Also, the two Aurors here... they believe this was a backfiring spell on Kendra."

He paused as Albus nodded, and then Cadmus held out his hand for Albus to shake. "I'm very sorry for your loss. Floo me if you need anything at all."

Then, he and the other Aurors left the house, closing the door behind them.

"What do we do now?" Aberforth asked.

Albus only shrugged.

He had no idea.

* * *

It was nearly sunrise before Aberforth fell asleep beside Albus. He wanted to sleep, but his mind was racing. For once, he was nervous and at loss at what to do. He had an urge to clean up the cottage, but also an intense feeling in his chest that told him to run from the house and never look back. But, he couldn't do that. He couldn't leave his siblings by themselves. He couldn't lose them.

So, instead, he just sat there, staring at those two. Ariana looked peaceful, but Aberforth's brow was furrowed and he twitched every once in a while, obviously having bad dreams that he couldn't awaken from. Albus sat there calmly, absentmindedly petting Fawkes.

Mrs. Bagshot arrived soon after Aberforth fell asleep. She held a pot, which made Albus assume she'd spent the last hour or so cooking. Cadmus couldn't have taken long to contact her.

"Hello, Albus," she said. Albus rushed to her side and took the pot from her, leading her into the kitchen. He was glad for something to distract him from his thoughts, even if it was simply carrying a pot.

The sun was just beginning to cast a low light around, but he still waved his hand to light a few candles.

Before he knew it, Mrs. Bagshot wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Albus. I can't believe- It's so horrible."

Albus didn't know what to say, so he said nothing and instead hugged her back. He hadn't realized how much he needed it until then.

"I made some porridge for the three of you," she said when she let go of him. "Why don't you go rest some? I'll clean up in here."

Albus hesitated, looking at the dishes that were still by their sink and a mess of charcoal and parchments laid out on the table where Ariana and Aberforth had obviously been drawing.

"I can-" Albus said, already reaching forward for the parchments.

"No, go rest," she said, pushing him out of the kitchen. "I'll take care of it."

He nodded slowly and was nearly back to the couch when he turned around to her again. "Is it all right if I go for a walk?"

"Of course. Be careful."

He nodded slowly, though the corners of his eyes prickled at those words. Be careful. Those had been just two of the last words he'd ever heard his mother say.

Albus let Fawkes fly around him as he walked down the dirt road toward town. It felt nice to walk as the sun came up, especially when Fawkes cooed over head, as if talking to him, telling him everything would work out.

He stopped at the graveyard, staring at all the graves. He thought it strange how there were skeletons in there, how they were once so conscious like him, and here they were in the ground, no longer thinking or seeing, completely gone. He didn't want to die. He liked living, but even worse, he couldn't believe his mother was dead.

He pushed open the gate and stepped through the ground. Fawkes landed on his shoulder as Albus sat down in the grass in front of a random grave. He didn't know the last name of Matthews that was etched in the stone, but he stared at the years- 1682-1797. He sighed, pulling out the little device he'd made as Flamel's project.

He clicked it and a light from the church shot toward him and entered into the device. He'd called it a deluminator, though when Flamel saw it before his N.E.W.T. exams, he wasn't as impressed with it as Albus thought he would be.

"Needs more," Flamel said as it captured a candle light from overheard. "Think, Dumbledore. It's an excellent device, but what else could this be used for?"

Albus sighed and looked back down at the grave.

"It finally works, huh?"

Albus jumped, his wand already pulled out of his pocket as he stood up, pointing it at the boy that stood in front of him.

The intruder put his hands up in front of him. "Dumbledore, it's me- Harry."

Albus' eyes widened. Harry was here! He was still here! But, wait. Albus narrowed his eyes and refused to drop his wand. He surveyed the boy in front of him. His hair stood up in the same place at the back of his head, he had his usual odd style of clothing- a green shirt and a cloak under blue jeans and, on his feet, odd shoes. He looked for the mokeskin pouch that he remembered Harry always wearing and there it was, the strings extending into his cloak. But, still, he had to be sure.

"Wait, if you're really Harry Potter, then where did I find you at Hogwarts the very first day?"

Harry smiled. "Seventh floor, by the tapestries of Barnabus and the dancing trolls." Harry paused for a moment, as if waiting for Albus to put down his wand, but he didn't. Harry smiled just slightly, though. "My turn, I guess. What's your favorite jam?"

Albus felt his eyebrows raise. What kind of question was that? "Strawberry."

Harry's eyes widened. "What! No it's not!"

"Kidding. It's raspberry."

Harry relaxed instantly and Albus dropped his wand. For the first time he couldn't stop the tears from falling. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. He couldn't believe it, he really couldn't. Harry was here! "I thought you'd left already. Flamel told me."

"The potion's not ready yet," Harry said. He didn't return the hug so Albus let go, holding him at arms length.

"I can't believe it," Albus said, choking as tears ran down his face. Flamel lied to him. Harry was still here! But, at that moment, he couldn't feel angry at all. In fact, his lips were threatening to twitch up, but he couldn't smile even though he wanted to so much. "Oh, Harry… my mother… Have you heard?"

Harry nodded, looking down at his feet. "Yeah. I would say sorry, but I'm sure you'll hear that all the time from now on. You're lucky you got to know your mum, though."

"Yours is gone?" Albus asked, slipping back onto the ground in front of the same grave. He didn't even care that he was sitting so near a skeleton. He could only focus on the fact that Harry was there and not nearly a hundred years in the future. He was happier to see him than he thought.

Harry nodded, looking over to his left where the graveyard was empty. Then, Harry caught his eye, and for once he felt Harry was giving him a memory rather than him forcing it out of him. He saw the name Lily Potter carved into a snow covered granite.

"I can't remember if you told me she died or not," Albus said reluctantly.

Harry didn't respond. Albus wiped the tears off his face and clicked his deluminator again. The light flew back into the window.

"What does the light feel like when it's in there?" Harry asked softly.

Albus sighed and clicked it again, allowing the light to fall back into core of the device. He closed his eyes and held onto it tightly, feeling it as the light tried to leave.

"It's like a small heartbeat," he said. "It's hard to feel because of the metal, but I can feel it if I concentrate enough."

Fawkes cooed again and Albus became aware of him flying toward Harry and landing on his shoulder. He placed his chest against Harry's cheekbone.

Albus watched as Harry smiled. "Is the heartbeat fast like Fawkes'?"

He shook his head. "It's slow, like a flickering."

Harry smiled, reaching up to run his hand over Fawkes' feathers.

Albus sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, feeling the small pulse in his hand. "What are you doing here, Harry?" he asked.

"I had to see you," he said.

"How did you know I was here?"

But, then, he realized even before Harry got to say anything.

He jerked his head up, staring at him. Harry refused to meet Albus' eyes.

"You knew!" he spat out. "You knew she was going to die, didn't you?"

Harry closed his eyes, rubbing the back of neck.

"Why didn't you do anything?" Albus said, his anger fading almost immediately. He didn't know how, but he felt calmer all of a sudden before he realized Fawkes was singing again. "We could have saved her if you'd told me."

Harry shook his head. "I can't tell you why I did it. I mean, I couldn't even remember what day she died. I didn't know it would be last night. I just knew it was soon. I'm sorry. I didn't want her to die, and I really didn't want you to go through this pain."

Fawkes came to Albus again, running his head against his hand, again giving him comfort.

"Albus," Harry said.

He looked up at Harry, then he hid his face in his arms. He didn't cry, though.

"Merlin," Albus said. "This is harder than when I learned my father died."

"You were younger," Harry said, his voice giving a small break. "It's harder when you've gotten to a point where you understand what it really means."

Albus nodded. "Have you seen a lot of death, Harry?"

He nodded. "Too much."

Albus sighed and covered his face again.

He stayed for a long time. Eventually Harry sat down beside him, just keeping him company.

"I'm so scared," Albus said when he finally lifted his head and the sun was up completely, streaming through the trees above.

There was a long pause. Harry pulled at the grass wearily, surveying Albus without much emotion on his face at all. "Are you angry?" he asked.

Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't know," he said, because he really wasn't sure at all. "I don't know what to do with myself right now."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, a twinge of nervousness in his voice.

Albus sighed. "I'm head of the family now, aren't I? I have a disabled sister whom I'll have to care for and a difficult brother. How am I supposed to get through all this on my own? I'm not even eighteen yet. How am I going to work at the Ministry? I'll have to stay home." He felt as if his heart was ripped into pieces as he looked up with Harry with a pained expression.

"You'll get through it," Harry said.

"How do you- Oh. Right. The future."

Harry nodded.

"I suppose you won't tell me how exactly I make it through this?"

He shook his head.

He sighed and stood up at long last. "How much longer will you stay?"

"Flamel said a month and a half left," Harry said as he stood up as well.

"Where are you staying currently?"

"With him."

Albus nodded slowly, then began to walk toward the gate, but Harry trailed behind as if he didn't want to leave the graveyard.

"Harry?" Albus asked as he put a hand on the gate.

Harry hesitated for a moment, but then he sighed wearily, standing right up close to Albus. "I was trailing Aberforth yesterday. I can't let anyone see me. I just wanted you to know I was here."

Albus blinked, then, suddenly, his heart seemed to stop for a moment. "It wasn't you, was it? At the window?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. Albus instantly believed him. "I don't know who that was. But I was there, by your house when it happened. I saw… everything."

Albus felt his blood run cold. "You… saw?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I heard someone opening the window and I rushed in."

"Aberforth said he saw no one!"

"I know how to make myself invisible."

Albus was taken aback, wondering how that was possible. Maybe a concealment charm? But, then, Harry was an Auror. He probably knew plenty of ways that weren't known to Albus yet.

"It was… horrible," Harry said, looking down at his feet. "Aberforth didn't know what to do; I didn't either. When he left to go get Cadmus Potter, I went back outside. I knew I couldn't let him see me."

Albus and Harry both stared at each other. Albus believe him completely, but… what was the point? Why had Harry been trailing Aberforth?

"Why are you here, anyway?" Albus asked, feeling pained for no reason at all.

Harry shook his head, taking in a deep breath as if he'd expected Albus to ask. "I finally convinced Flamel I needed to talk to you, learn things about you first hand. If you'll let me, I'd like to spend time with you before I have to leave."

Albus nodded. He felt as if his emotions were all over the place. He felt excited, somehow, despite everything that had happened that morning. "One condition."

"I tell things about myself?" Harry said.

Albus nodded.

"I knew it. Yeah."

Albus's lips twitched up and he smiled sooner than he expected he'd be able to. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry smiled and then pushed open the gate, leading them both out onto the dirt road. "Good luck. I'll see you soon."

And then there was a pop and Harry was gone.

Albus went back to his house, his chest filled with partial joy, partial sorrow.

But, when he got there, he didn't just see his siblings and Mrs. Bagshot.

There was someone new there.

There was no other way to describe him.

He was the most handsome boy Albus had ever seen in his life.

* * *

A/N: Two updates in two days? What? No way. I got into this next chapter, like intensely. And now I'm squealing because of that last sentence. Cough. Anyway.

Lots of this comes from my experiences after my grandpa died. I got the news in the middle of the night and I had both the intense urge to clean everything and to go running. When the sun came up I went running and ended up stopping at the play ground of my elementary school. That's a little less morbid than the graveyard, but you know. But anyway.

Extra points if you can spot the two the Avatar: The Last Airbender references. Also, the previous chapter title comes from a lyric in Cough Syrup by Young the Giant. "Dark world aches for a slash of the sun." I forgot to mention that. And also, I read a section when I was looking for the epitaph on the gravestone of Kendra's grave that Albus actually got an owl telling him of his mother's death. But, this is AU, so yeah. Anyway.

Please review :)

**Also, I've made a sub Tumblr off my own to explain any mistakes I've made. forcedperception(.)tumblr(.)com. **You can also ask my questions (through a tumblr account or anonymously) if you have any. I have made a lot of mistakes, I've realized, and those will be explained on the Tumblr.


	22. 22: Albus and Gellert

**Chapter 22**:** Albus and Gellert**

* * *

When Aberforth awoke the morning after his mother died, he almost didn't believe it. But as he sat there, holding onto Ariana, he knew it to be true.

His thoughts wandered back to the middle of the night, when his mother's body had lay dead on the floor. He'd been scared, too scared to go up to her to check whether or not she was dead or just unconscious. But he knew immediately what had happened and nothing could change that. Nothing could bring people back from the dead.

When he eventually had checked after Ariana calmed down completely, he bolted off toward the Potters'. He didn't like Cadmus that much, but he was one of the only two people in the whole village who knew about Ariana, as much as he hated that Ariana had to be hidden away. He would be the safest bet.

He couldn't remember what he'd said to him at all. All he could remember was that Cadmus told him to calm down and that he'd come over to look.

The next few hours were nothing he wanted to remember anymore, with Albus coming in with Cadmus demanding to see his mother, and the awkward silences that followed while a team of three Aurors, whom Cadmus trusted beyond anyone else… cleaned up.

Now the house was silent and Albus was nowhere to be seen. Well, it would be quiet and Albus wouldn't be seen if he didn't hear papers being shifted around and dishes being put down on a hard surface.

Gently, after shaking in head in hopes that the thoughts would go away, Aberforth repositioned Ariana and stood to go into the kitchen.

"What the hell is that racket, Albus?" he said.

But he stopped dead at the sight of Mrs. Bagshot there, cleaning dishes and the table off- all somehow at the same time.

Aberforth stared as she turned from the sink.

She didn't scold him like he thought she would. Instead, she crossed the room before Aberforth even realized it and wrapped her arms around him gently.

"That must have been so horrible to see," she said. "I'm very sorry."

"Where's my brother?" Aberforth asked, looking around the kitchen as she let go of him. He half expected Albus to materialize in front of him. It was definitely possible, but it didn't happen.

"He went for a walk," she said, crossing the kitchen to a pot that didn't belong to the Dumbledores. It was too nice. "I made some breakfast for all of you. Sit down."

Aberforth shook his head. "I'm going to put Ariana up in my room so she can sleep."

She didn't question why he was taking her to his room. Her sad smile told Aberforth she understood. He didn't want to put her in a room where something so bad had happened.

Aberforth lifted Ariana easily. He could have cursed his mother, her being so thin, but it felt too inappropriate. He'd get her to eat more over the summer. She'd be a healthy weight by the time he went back to Hogwarts.

No.

As he went sideways up the stairs, he knew he couldn't leave her. Didn't Albus say something about being head of the family, or was did Aberforth just assume he would taken that position, that rightful position?

Albus didn't know how to care for Ariana! He'd hardly been around since he was fifteen years old, having spent most of the last summer in his apprenticeship with Nicolas Flamel. He had no idea how to take care of their sister.

He had no idea how to calm her down.

How would he survive a whole year of Aberforth not being there to help? Even worse, he knew Albus had accepted a job in the Ministry. He'd want to work. Ariana couldn't be left alone. She'd be left alone for hours in his care.

Aberforth bit down on his lip hard. He couldn't let Albus take care of her. There was no way that was ever going to happen. No way.

But before he could form another thought, he heard something. He laid Ariana down on the bed gently, then stood up straight. Who would be knocking on their door at this hour?

He turned and stalked down the stairs, pushing passed Mrs. Bagshot by the kitchen door.

His eyes narrowed when he saw who had stopped by.

That boy. Gellert.

"Hello," Gellert said with an impish grin. Aberforth's eyes narrowed. "Is my auntie here?"

"Unfortunately," Aberforth gruffed under his breath. "Mrs. Bagshot!"

"What is it- oh, Gellert. Is something wrong?" Mrs. Bagshot asked when she got to the door.

The boy took a step forward, over the threshold. Aberforth's eyes narrowed even more. "Everything's fine," he said with his slight German accent. "I was just wondering what was going on. I was taking a walk into town and everyone's been whispering."

Aberforth didn't like it at all when Gellert stepped in another step. He had no choice but to step aside. Even though he was actually taller than the blonde boy, the aura of magic casting off him told him that he shouldn't get on the wrong side of him.

"My mother died," Aberforth said harshly, anyway.

Gellert's eyes widened and then he looked down to the floor, shaking his head. "Horrible. Very sorry."

Aberforth crossed his arms as Gellert crossed into the living area where Ariana had just been. He was very glad he'd moved her so he couldn't see.

"Yes, come in, Gellert, have some breakfast," said Mrs. Bagshot. "Aberforth, you too."

Aberforth reluctantly followed both of them into the kitchen. He didn't feel like eating, but if Gellert was there, coming into his house, then he would be around him at all times. He didn't know the boy at all. He'd just met him yesterday. And he didn't like him.

As Mrs. Bagshot served them both the porridge, Gellert looked up at Aberforth.

"I'm looking forward to meeting your brother," he said.

"Yes," Mrs. Bagshot said, nodding. "You two will get along fabulously."

Aberforth resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This would be a long summer.

Aberforth ate silently, wishing the boy would eat faster, but he seemed to be taking his merry time. He just wanted to be alone. Was that so horrible to ask after his mother had died?

He was just finishing up his portion when the front door opened again. For once, he was glad for Albus' presence. He waited impatiently for Albus to come into the kitchen.

And when he did, Aberforth expected him to raise his eyebrows at Gellert, demanding he get out so his family could be alone.

But that didn't happen, because Albus was not Aberforth.

Instead, Albus's eyes widened when he caught sight of Gellert for an instant before he looked away, down at Aberforth.

"Hello," Albus said, his face suddenly blushed. Aberforth felt his eyebrows narrow.

"Ah, Albus!" Mrs. Bagshot said, crossing the kitchen again to led him to sit next to Gellert. Aberforth watched, wondering what was going on with Albus, since he blushed even redder when he sat down. That wasn't like him at all. He was usually very cheerful when he met new people, always happy to talk to them. Not silent and bright red. Aberforth's eyes narrowed even more. "This is my nephew Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert, this is Albus Dumbledore."

Albus's eyes widened again, but this time in recognition, and then he held a hand out immediately. "Mrs. Bagshot has told me about you before."

Gellert smiled, taking Albus' outstretched hand. "As have I. It's nice to meet you."

If it was even possible, Albus' face got even redder.

Aberforth was sure he'd never seen his brother so nervous before. He was always collected, but this… it was so strange and, quite frankly, scary.

Aberforth couldn't take it. He stood up from the table and grabbed the feeding pile for the goats. "I'm going to check on Hokey and Pokey."

But Albus didn't even acknowledge him. Huffing, Aberforth walked back into the backyard.

This would be a fantastic summer. That was for sure.

At least he had his goats and Ariana.

* * *

Albus was sure he'd never been so nervous.

Even minutes after he shook hands with Gellert Grindelwald, he still felt the ghost of Gellert's skin on his and a remaining twinge of power he'd felt even before they touched.

He could tell Gellert was powerful. His magic seemed to radiate from him, which he'd never noticed in anyone else before. Bathilda had told him months ago that Gellert had gotten 12 O.. He was obviously very smart, but being near him, he could tell there was something about him that he never felt around anyone else before.

And honestly, it excited him.

"Auntie was telling me yesterday you were going on a world tour and wouldn't be back until August," Gellert said.

Albus frowned as Mrs. Bagshot handed him a bowl of porridge. "Well, I was… I can't now."

"Oh, I see," Gellert said, frowning as well. "Well, maybe we can chat this summer; talk about magic. I read a few of your Transfiguration Today articles that Auntie has. They're very interesting. I particularly liked the one from September, the one about Reverse Transfiguration. Fascinating view point."

"You think so?" Albus asked, smiling kindly. Someone had actually read his article! Someone his age! And Gellert actually understood it. Even Professor Garside, who always read his articles before publication, hadn't really understood what he was suggesting when he wrote that article.

"Oh, yes, it was very informative. I particularly liked-"

They talked about the article for a while, Albus growing more and more excited as time went on. Gellert was actually giving his own ideas that built up from what Albus had said in the article. That fascinated him. Most people he met only summarized articles or texts and rarely gave input that wasn't just opinionated. Gellert seemed to actually understand.

Finally someone he could talk to about magic!

"Why don't the both of you go outside?" Bathilda suggested, glancing out the window. "It's a lovely day."

Albus nodded obediently, hardly even realizing she said anything, but he still followed through and left the house and began walking down the cobbled road.

"So, you're done with school now?" Gellert asked as he ran his finger down the side of a gate that ran down the other side of the street, by the woods that back up to the graveyard further down the road.

"Yes," Albus said. "I couldn't wait to get out of there."

Gellert smiled. "That's why I left."

"Left what? School?" Albus said, surprised. "You dropped out?"

"Well," he said, shrugging. "I was getting in too much trouble. I thought it would be best just to leave. I'm intelligent enough. I could get a job easily if I wanted one based on my O.."

Albus felt as if he was lying, but somehow not. He raised his eyebrows, confused, but chose to ignore his suspicions that Gellert was lying somehow, or at least bending the truth. "And you don't have a job?"

"Not right now, maybe later." He paused, reaching up to pull a leaf from a tree. Albus watched him study it before he let it float in his hand. He twirled it around before he let it drop to the ground. "You're working?"

Albus sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know when I'll start. I was going to start in August when I got back, but I can't leave my brother alone."

"He doesn't seem helpless," Gellert said. "Mostly just suspicious."

Albus shrugged. "He's… wayward." He couldn't even mention his sister, because she could be worse.

"Ah."

There was a comfortable pause as they walked. Albus found it quite easy to be around this stranger; even easier than it was to be around Merrythought or even Harry. He guessed Harry was a different story, though. His future self knew Harry. He had to get along with him.

But this was different. He didn't understand how he became so comfortable around someone so immediately. He looked Gellert up and down, taking in his appearance. He was tall, but not as tall as Albus, and had shoulder length blonde hair. His face had an angularity to it that contrasted to the usual baby cheeks still present on most sixteen or seventeen year olds. His clothes were simple, just a white tunic and black pants- however, when Albus looked down at Gellert's feet, he noticed he wore dragon skin boots. He smiled at that before looking back up at his face.

Gellert caught his eye and smirked slightly, as if he'd just been doing the same with Albus.

"I met a friend of yours," Gellert said, something Albus wasn't expecting. "Well, more of a teacher, I think."

"Yes?" Albus asked, wondering who on Earth he'd met.

"Harry."

Speak of Merlin. He'd just been thinking about Harry… But where did they meet? Where had Harry been all those months, anyway?

Even after he'd thought those thoughts, he realized something.

It couldn't be… What if this was supposed to happen, him meeting Gellert? What if Harry had sought out Gellert? This had to do with something from the future. Did Harry know this stranger who he was suddenly so drawn to? Was he important to the future, someone Albus could have introduced Harry to? If they were still friends all those ears later… Maybe Albus was getting ahead of himself.

Albus nodded, though.

"He said you're more brilliant than I believed, and I already thought highly of you."

Albus' cheeks warmed. "Did you?"

Gellert nodded curtly. "Auntie wouldn't stop raving about how many awards you've gotten and how brilliant you are in magic. I thought we'd have a lot in common, and even though I've just met you, I think we'll be good friends."

Albus smiled widely. Maybe this did have something to do with the future. Gellert could already see they would be good friends. He must be important.

"I think-"

Albus stopped, blinking. The smile dropped from his lips as he remembered what had happened that morning. His mother was gone.

But at least now he had a distraction, someone he could relate to.

"Think what?" Gellert asked.

"I-"

The church bell tolled, causing Albus to pause. Couldn't he get a word in without being interrupted by his thoughts or a bell?

Gellert sighed, looking skyward. "It's eight. I meant to get milk and eggs for Auntie this morning. We should get together sometime and talk more."

"Yes, we should," Albus said. He didn't want to part from Gellert so quickly, though. But if he had to go on… Albus needed to go back to the house, though, to make sure his brother and sister were doing okay. And, anyway, he'd have plenty of time with his new friend later. "It was nice meeting you."

"You, as well."

Gellert waved and then started running toward town.

Albus stared at him, smiling softly to himself. They would get on wonderfully. He wouldn't have to be so alone with only his siblings for company until he could figure out how to take care of Ariana and work at the same time.

Then, he turned and went back to his house, feeling elated even though he should have felt horrible.

* * *

Many miles away, Harry appeared in Nicolas Flamel's workshop.

The old man looked up at him, his eyebrow raised. "I thought you'd be in Godric's Hollow longer than this," he said as he added a moon flower to the Epoch potion.

"Yeah, but there's a problem."

"What's that?" Flamel asked, stirring the potion counter clock-wise.

Harry took in a deep breath, sitting at the work table. "I just promised Albus that I'll tell him things about myself."

"Oh?" Flamel said. "Now see here, boy. You can't, even if I'm taking his memory away later-"

"I know," Harry said, looking down. "But there's something worse."

"And what's that?"

"His mother is dead and he's about to meet someone who may have been his sister's murderer next month."

* * *

_A/N: Oh, Gellert. You manipulative little jerk. I also feel like I wrote this horribly and that it's too short but alas._

_Okay, long AN coming up, but it's important… Sorry for the long wait (again) and for the short chapter. It was getting towards finals and I had lots of essays and tests to do... I really want to finish this story this summer. Hopefully that will happen even though I'm doing an internship in a museum library._

_Okay… So… I was reading Harry Potter wikia and it made me realize I made a few mistakes on the actual timeline of what happened and that led me to actually reread Rita, Aberforth, and Albus's accounts of what happened during that time. I forgot some details and misremembered some of the timeline so…_

_I've made a sub Tumblr page off my normal one to explain these changes to fit Harry being there and changing things very subtly- forcedperception(.)tumblr(.)com. You can also ask me questions on there from your Tumblr account or anonymously if you don't have one._

_I'm so sorry for the mistakes, but again, this is AU. I know that I've made many mistakes before in this story already and taken some liberties. But, of course, Harry was never there with young Albus in the original series. His presence is bound to change a little bit._


	23. 23: Heart Be Also

**Chapter 23: Heart Be Also**

* * *

Albus couldn't move.

For the longest time, he sat outside in the garden, watching the two goats as they chewed grass or laid down on the flowers his mother had planted.

Once, Aberforth came out and sat on a small stool to milk them. He didn't seem as dedicated to it as normal, though. He seemed to only get a half a pile filled before he stood up, glared at Albus, and then went into the house again.

Albus had no idea why he'd glared at him, but he could hardly care.

He just felt completely numb, something that hadn't even hit him until that morning when he was laying awake in bed, sweating from a nightmare he could hardly remember anymore. He just knew there was a fight between him and Aberforth and he had the distinct feeling that Harry had died rather than his mother.

In a way, he was glad he couldn't remember it in detail, but it had been difficult to get to sleep after that.

It's the second day, he told himself as he stared at the goats more. You'll have nightmares. This happened when Father died.

He tried to reassure himself, but then all he could think about were those Dementors, how they had showed up in his dreams for a month after Percival had died. Elphias had been there for him, then, to calm him down after he woke up thrashing in his sleep as he tried so hard to run away from the Dementors, all crowded around Hogwarts. Everywhere he had turned there was a new Dementor, carrying his father's golden soul in their gastly hand.

He took in a deep breath, trying to shake those thoughts from his mind.

It was only when Aberforth called out to him that Elphias was there that he stood up. His knees almost gave out, though, but he still moved to greet his best friend.

Elphias hugged him as soon as he saw him.

"You should have let me come yesterday," Elphias said, holding him as Albus hugged him back.

Albus shook his head. "I'm fine. We're fine. Thank you for sorting out everything with Mrs. Deeson. I'm sorry I can't come with you on the trip. Very sorry, actually."

Elphias shook his head and pulled away from Albus, looking him up and down for a moment. "Don't worry. It's fine. It's all fine. Let's sit down."

Albus let him led him over to the couch, and as they sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, he listened to Aberforth's footsteps in their room and Ariana's laugh as he entertained her.

"I saw Harry," Albus said, abruptly remembering the morning before.

Elphias' eyes went wide. "You did? When? How is he?"

Albus told him. "He agreed he would answer questions when I ask them. Apparently he'll be around this summer until he can leave."

Elphias nodded, but another long pause came. Albus thought about the future again, how bleak it seemed. At least he'd still live for a long time, but at this point, he could hardly understand how he'd live through the rest of the summer until Aberforth went back to school.

"Albus... I just thought of something..."

"Hm?" he asked, distracted.

"Do you think Harry knew when your mother would die?"

His question seemed to hang in the air for a moment, but Albus nodded. "He knew."

* * *

The mid-afternoon sun shone over the Potter residence where a boy, around 13, was climbing a tree in the front.

Harry sat along the edge of the woods lining the cobbled street right outside this house. He missed talking to Atticus. At one point during the school year when he'd been working there, he'd talked to Atticus every day, always sitting with him before his friends arrived in the Great Hall. It was nice talking to an actual blood relative. He'd never had the chance for that before. Now as he stared at Atticus, who seemed to have grown a few inches since he'd seen him in December, Harry wished he'd valued the time talking to him more.

Honestly, he doubted he'd be able to talk to him anymore. He wished he could remember more of their conversations, as well.

He could only be seen by the Dumbledore's. Nicolas Flamel told him that. He couldn't risk being caught by Atticus' father. Flamel had read the newspapers recently. Even though his disappearance wasn't all that known, the Aurors were still looking for him, because Phineas Nigellus had been so insistent that there was something up.

But, he couldn't dwell on that. Their conversation the other day had been enough for him to think about, and at the moment, right before he was about ready to go to Kendra's funeral- hidden under his cloak, of course- he didn't want to think about that.

When the chapel's bell chimed ten, Atticus looked up toward the sky, then jumped down from one of the branches. Harry watched him enter into his house- the one Harry had spent his first 15 months in- and promised himself he'd make contact with him, even if Flamel said no. He needed to get to know his family more, now that he actually had them.

Harry sighed and stood up, walking slowly down the lane toward the church.

Harry had had enough funerals for a lifetime right after the war, but he couldn't miss this. If he saw Albus' funeral, he might as well see Kendra's.

Only a small number of people were gathered in the pews. He immediately spotted Albus and Aberforth in the front row. Ariana was no where to be seen, but neither was Mrs. Bagshot or, thankfully, Grindelwald, so he assumed she was watching out for Ariana.

Harry sat down in the back just as the grey breaded minister began the sermon. For a moment, Harry couldn't place him, but he nearly laughed to himself when he realized it was the same little, tufted haired wizard who had delivered Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding.

However, once that hit, he felt his laughter crashing. He stared at the back of Albus' head, suddenly feeling so solemn.

He had two months left with Albus. That was it. And then he was gone forever.

"Out of love," said the wizard in a solemn voice, glancing out into the tiny crowd. "We have gathered here today in the house of mourning to celebrate the life of Kendra Dumbledore."

There was a sniff. Harry wondered if it was Albus or not, but he hadn't seen him move at all. He was watching him too intensely.

"To begin, I will read a passage from Matthew 6:19, one that her eldest son, Albus, said was her favorite. 'Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.'

Harry blinked as the wizard read the last sentence, his mind flashing back to that Christmas Eve when his wand had been broken and he'd seen his parent's graves for the first time.

He couldn't help but remember what it felt like to stand near his parents for the first time since they had been alive. A chill ran down his spine, thinking of how Albus must be feeling. Harry could clearly see her casket up at the front. He was just a few feet away from her dead body, which was closed off and hidden away from view.

She was so close, but there wasn't a way to get to her.

At least Albus had had time with Kendra. Harry couldn't remember anything about his mother but her dying screams and past memories that he had witnessed through Snape.

Harry felt the edges of his eyes prickle as he wondered what Albus was thinking at that moment.

What it must be like to know your mother... be around her and treasure her in living form. Harry longed for her, had ever since he was small.

The first time he'd ever see Lily had been in the Mirror of Erised. Albus didn't know it, but he would see the same exact thing years from now that Harry saw in the mirror. He wondered what he would do when he faced the mirror for the first time and caught sight of his mother and sister and father and brother in the mirror.

His clear blue eyes would probably glisten with tears as he stared at his family happy together for the first time in a very, very long time.

But when Harry really thought about it and wished he'd had time with his mother like Albus had, at least he had something else to treasure besides Snape's memories and her grave stone. Her love had kept him safe for so long.

Maybe that was why Dumbledore had emphasized it so much when he was alive. Voldemort hadn't been able to reach him because her love had been so strong. He didn't have much to treasure in his possession except an old letter to Sirius and her grave stone. He just had her love.

A tear slipping down his face brought him back to the sermon. He blinked several times as the minister continued, though thinking back to the epitaph he'd just preached. He wondered if Albus felt the same as him; if he had nothing else left of her.

"According to Albus, she devoted her life to watching over her children. He remembers how she used to read him Tales of Beedle the Bard until he and his younger brother Aberforth memorized the words of the stories. Aberforth, in return, remembers how she used to take walks with him into the fields surrounding Godric's Hollow and teach him about different animals and plants. He said those were moments he'd treasure."

The little wizard took in a short breath as he continued on. "My remarks are directed to Kendra's children when I preach Matthew 6:22-24, also selected by Albus: 'The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!'"

He paused for a moment, looking directly down at Albus.

Harry saw him turn his head just slightly before he turned his head completely to look behind him, directly at the spot where Harry was sitting.

His face was red, but Harry could not see a glisten of tears on his cheeks. Not one, though his chest was heaving, as if begging his body not to let tears fall. He was fighting, Harry could tell.

Albus didn't want to cry. He didn't want to mourn. Harry just couldn't understand why. Maybe he was trying to be strong, but hadn't he cried when Harry left Hogwarts half a year ago? How could he cry for Harry when he couldn't cry for his own mother?

"'No one can serve two masters,'" the minister said. "'Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both…'"

Harry swallowed as Albus visibly shivered and stood for hymn. Harry said nothing, though he could hear Albus' voice over the others, perfectly in tune to the piano playing.

When the closing remarks were said, he and Aberforth and three women who looked remarkably like the pictures he'd seen of Kendra, with their high, Native-American cheekbones and copper skin began to walk out a side door as the casket floated along behind them.

Harry stood, wiping his cheeks and followed.

* * *

Harry approached Albus where he sat in the meadow, tearing pieces of long grass from earth and breaking them into pieces. As Harry sat down next to him, Albus muttered so softly that Harry couldn't even hear the word of the incantation. The pieces immediately went back into place and he threw it off to the side before looking at Harry.

"You were in the back," Albus said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed.

Albus' lips twitched slightly, but then he closed his eyes tightly and blindly grabbed another piece of grass.

"My father didn't have a funeral," Albus said. Harry blinked several times, but tried not to show his surprised. He just waited. "He was still in Azkaban. I suspect you know all about that, correct? Since you knew about Ariana."

"Yes."

Albus bit on his lip and glanced up at Harry wearily. "Sometimes I feel like my father's still alive. It's just like he's still in Azkaban, but I just can't go see him. I don't like the Dementors, Harry. They're horrid. The one time I did see my father, he was screaming and screaming. He didn't recognize me and I knew immediately that it was those soul-suckers."

He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Harry waited again, the little hairs on the back of his neck were sticking up. Of course he understood, but he didn't understand why Albus was suddenly telling him that. He'd never been so candid to Harry. Never. It was always about trying to pull information from him.

Albus took in a shuddering breath. "I begged my mother not to let me accompany her the next few times. I was about to go once, but… I was reading through my school books. I'd just gotten them and wanted to know everything… I wish- He died a few months later. And to cope, I immersed myself in school work. I was already determined to be great at magic before that because I wanted to show everyone that I wasn't whom they thought my father was. A Muggle-hater and blood purist-"

He stopped. His eyes pooled with tears and he looked away from Harry to cover his face with his hands as he began to sob.

Harry bit his lip. "Albus, I know. You told me what happened with Ariana. He was angry. I reckon if I had a daughter and someone, anyone, hurt her, I'd be that angry, too."

"It's not just that!" Albus said. "I hated that I didn't see him again! I'm his son. I was supposed to be there like I should've been there for my mother."

He shook his head, dropping his hands and looking at Harry with his clear eyes that still seemed to pierce him. The way he shook his head and cried reminded Harry fiercely of the night he died. How he'd been reliving all his awful memories.

"They're gone," Albus said. "Why are they gone? Why couldn't it have been me instead? Ariana and Aberforth… They need them. I think that's why I think my father's still in Azkaban. Maybe someday he'll come back."

Harry nodded slowly, wondering what he could do. The last time he had to comfort someone, it had been Hermione while they were on the run. And that hadn't really gone all that well.

And then the time before that, with Cho in the Room of Requirement… well…

But before Harry could decided what to do, Albus went on again.

"I know I have to be there for Ariana and Abe," Albus said while he wiped his tears away. "Is it so bad for me to want to get away? Just how I did schoolwork to take my mind off everything that had happened?"

He couldn't answer. It seemed more rhetorical to Harry, and honestly, he had no idea what to tell him. His sister may end up dead before the summer's end. Harry felt he needed to only focus on that.

And keep him away from Grindelwald, even though Flamel said not to interfere too much.

"You lost people, haven't you, Harry?" He let Harry nod his head. "What did you do?"

Harry hesitated slightly. "I don't want to talk about it."

Albus let out a frustrated sigh, something Harry had never heard from him before. "You said you would talk to me."

"I know," Harry said. "Just... not right now, okay?"

Albus pulled a piece of grass out of the ground rather harshly and twisted around his fingers. Harry watched as the ends turned purple before he let it go and his skin changed back to its normal light color.

"Just tell me. Please," he said. His eyes were downcast, not at all looking toward Harry. "I just want to know if this is okay. I mean, to feel like I'm stuck. Like I can't move. I want to do something to occupy my time, but I just feel like I'm flying into the middle of the Quidditch Pitch with the bludgers coming towards me and I have no idea what to do."

"You don't know how to play Quidditch?" Harry asked. Dumbledore had rarely attended the games, but that hadn't always meant to Harry that he didn't know how to play.

Albus smiled wearily. "I know the rules, of course. I also can fly and I'm quite well coordinated, but there's something about it that I can't figure out. I'm more of a theorist and dueler than an athlete."

"I was seeker."

"Were you?" Albus asked, giving a real smile this time, even though it was weak. He looked Harry up and down. "I can see that. You must have been small when you were younger."

"And you must've been tall."

He chuckled slightly. "Yes. Quite."

Harry smiled, glad that the conversation was now less tear filled.

"And now you're an Auror," Albus said after a few minutes of silence except for birds calling and the wind blowing the leaves of the trees surrounding them. "How does one become an Auror at 18?"

"I was 17, actually. I joined June last year."

"Except not last year. A future next year."

"Yeah."

"And you never had your N.E.W.T.s," Albus hook his head. "I usually understand complex concepts, but this is mad. Maybe things are different in the future."

"Er… you could say that."

He stared at Harry and was nearly about to say something when he stopped, listening. Harry could hear the bells of the chapel, too.

"Eleven," Albus said. "I was meant to meet- Nevermind. I think… Would you meet me somewhere tonight? To talk."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Here again, then," Albus said, standing. He brushed off his robes. "Before the sun goes down."

Harry nodded again, staring up at him. "Who are you meeting?"

He shook his head. "I have to say farewell to Elphias."

Right. He'd remembered seeing Elphias standing next to Albus as the casket had been spelled into the ground.

"Thank you, Harry," Albus said as he began walking toward the trees. "For coming, I mean. It means tremendously to me."

And then, Harry watched him disappear.

He couldn't get the image of Albus' father screaming in a lonely and dank prison cell, nor Ariana's high pitched screams as magic swirled around, out of his mind for the rest of the day.

* * *

"You know I love you, right?"

Albus nodded slowly, looking off to the left as Elphias packed his bag. He'd be in Greece before the day ended and Albus had never envied someone so much.

"I will write you and tell you everything."

Albus cringed. Why did this have to happen? He'd been looking for the world tour for years.

"Or… not, if you don't want me to-"

"No, no, please," Albus said. "I'd like to hear."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, wondering then if he made a mistake, but Elphias promised him he would and then pulled Albus into a hug.

Albus closed his eyes, hugging his friend back in a defeated way. Why did all of this have to happen? Why? He couldn't feel.

"You're my best friend, Albus, and I can't tell you how dreadful I feel for you. I wish you could come."

"Thank you," Albus said. "I appreciate everything."

Elphias broke the hug ad then with one last, "Good-bye. Good luck, Albus," he disapparated in front of Albus, completely gone.

He sighed and sat down on his bed, glancing across to Aberforth's messy side of the room. His bed was terribly ruffled, and just to do something, anything, he waved his wand lazily to make the bed proper again.

"He loves you?"

Albus jumped, pointing his wand toward the window where the sound of a voice came through. But on closer inspection, he realized it was only Gellert there, his elbow on the windowsill and his fist under his chin, looking in on Albus was a half smile.

"He's my best friend," Albus said, lowering his wand.

"Oh, sorry, excuse me," he said sweetly, then he heaved himself through the window and sat on top of Albus' desk. He picked up a sheet of parchment Albus had written all over and read through it quickly. "Hm. Interesting."

"What is?" Albus said. He couldn't remember what he'd written on that paper. All he could remember was the funeral.

"How someone like you could be friend's with someone so… uncultivated."

Albus couldn't even acknowledge the insult. "He's quite extraordinary at law."

Gellert hummed, dropping the parchment down. "I was at the funeral."

"Were you?" he asked. He hadn't seen him. He'd noticed Harry's presence, even if he couldn't be seen, but he hadn't once detected Gellert's.

"Yes." He paused for a moment and then jumped down from the desk and strolled over to Albus' bookshelf which had all his spell books placed by year and subject on it. But he didn't pick one of those, instead he found a small copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. "Your mother read to you in ancient runes?"

"Yes," Albus said. "She always translated it to English."

"Then she was quite proficient."

"Yes, she was. She taught me how to write and read it along with English."

Gellert crossed the room again and sat down in the wooden chair at the desk. Albus watched as he flipped through the book, stopping every once in a while to mutter to himself too quietly for Albus to hear.

"Did she teach you magic when you were younger?"

"No, but I asked questions and my parents answered."

"Both your parents are magic?"

"Yes."

Gellert seemed to consider that for a moment before he stopped flipping through the book to read one of the stories. Albus watched his eyes flash back and forth quickly.

"A wand for power," Gellert said as he read. Albus felt his heart leap. "A ring for love, and a cloak to hide." He shook his head. "Cowardly, that last brother."

Albus didn't think so, but he didn't have the strength to argue. "And the other two?" Albus asked.

He only shook his head and instead said, "Do you believe in these objects? Do you think they're real?"

Albus heart sped up and for the first time in two days, he felt something more than numbness and sadness that had gradually gotten worse as time went on and his mother's death sunk in. Gellert knew! He believed! No one else believed they were real. "The Deathly Hallows? What do you think?"

Gellert smirked. "Yes. They're just too good not to be real. There's a veil in the English Ministry, and Thestrals roaming the country, aren't there? Why can't there be a personification of Death whom gave gifts to people if the Ministry of Magic's got a direct gateway to death, and there're even creatures only visible to those who have seen death?"

Albus thought his heart would burst with all the feelings he'd been feeling that day. From sadness to sudden happiness. "I've always thought the same! It's not just a children's story. I feel the other stories are real, as well."

"Babbity Rabbity? Oh, goodness me. Could you imagine?"

Albus caught Gellert's eyes and then, before he knew it, he was bursting with laugher with him. It was an easy laughter like he was used to with Elphias.

"But, seriously," Gellert said, still smiling as he sat down opposite Albus on Aberforth's bed. "I think these are real. The wand, ring, cloak… everything. Do you?"

Albus nodded in confirmation of understanding. "I do."

Then, Gellert smiled and closed the book before closing the book and glancing around Albus and Aberforth's room. His eyes fell onto the notebook Albus had given Aberforth, which sat at the edge of the desk they shared.

Gellert reached out for it, but Albus flicked his wand to keep it out of reach of Gellert. "That's not mine."

"Oh," he said disappointed. "Your brother writes?"

"He draws," Albus said.

"Plants and animals?" Gellert asked, picking up one of Fawkes' feathers from the desk instead of the book. He ran his hand softly over it, then sniffed it.

"He does studies. He's quite good. I can see him doing Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures after school."

"Hm," Gellert said, studying the feather closer, seeming to ignore what Albus just said. "You have a phoenix."

Albus nodded. "Would you like to see him? He's incredibly handsome. Fawkes!"

He popped out from under Albus' bed. Albus petted his head as he wattled out into the middle of the room.

Gellert bit his tongue, reaching out his hand to touch Fawkes, but the bird squawked and flew up onto Albus's shoulder, eyeing Gellert wearily.

Albus remembered how Fawkes acted when Harry first came. He was comfortable with Harry touching him, even enjoyed it like Harry was an old friend. But something about Gellert he didn't like. "Oh, come on, Fawkes. He's all right."

He screamed a chirp and nipped at Albus's ear before digging his claws in Albus's shoulder and then flying out the open window.

"Sorry about that," Albus said, staring after his pet. "He must be hungry. He gets cranky when he is."

Gellert smiled, but not as fully as before.

"So, tell me about Hogwarts? I've always wondered what it was like there."

Albus smiled and started talking about how beautiful the castle was.

About an hour later, Gellert announced he had to leave to go for dinner. Albus said farewell to him also, but as soon as he closed the window, he missed Gellert's company. He sighed at the thought of going down to fix Aberforth and Ariana their dinner before meeting Harry.

He wanted to talk more to Gellert. All night, in fact. But he guessed that wouldn't happen.

* * *

_A/N: Admittedly… I forgot about this story. It's my senior (!) year of college now, which I can't believe. I started this three years ago now at the end of my freshman year. I can't believe it. But I have work to do, at school I mean… like a 30-50 page Art History thesis to think about for next semester. And tests for Ethics and a Chaucer class (that Chaucer class is honestly a nightmare) and paintings upon paintings in Advanced Studio. So… I'm swamped. But still currently reading JK's new book! Oh, and an internship… which I haven't been doing any work for :\ I'm going to fail. Ugh. Anyway._

_I do have every single intention of finishing this. I promise :)_


	24. 24: The Talk

**Chapter 24: The Talk**

* * *

Harry lay on his back and stared up at the trees much like he'd done at the Dursleys as he waited for Albus to come back. He felt as if he should go back to Flamel for a while, but he didn't like apparating much. Staring up at the tree canopies just outside of the meadow and thinking about Ginny and Ron and Hermione was much nicer than the the work Flamel would put him through; sweeping the floors, putting his potions in order. He was getting paid for all of that since he left Hogwarts so he could have food and clothing, but still, he'd rather be alone with his thoughts.

The sun was just starting to set when Albus showed up, carrying something in a cloth.

Albus handed it to Harry and he found it was a rather large piece of bread.

"Bribing me with food?" Harry asked as he tore off a piece.

"In all possibility, yes," he said, sitting down next to Harry.

Harry tried not to smile. "Thank you."

Albus didn't speak until Harry finished eating. He waited patiently for him, but realized he wasn't going to. "Are you going to ask me questions?"

Albus smiled kindly, his eyes twinkling. "What were your O.W.L. scores?"

Of course he would ask that first. "I got 7 O.W.L's. My only Outstanding was in Defense."

Albus nodded slowly. Harry wondered what he was thinking, but felt slightly put out when he noticed Albus frowned slightly as if he'd expected Harry to do better.

"When's your birthday?" Albus asked next.

"Er," he thought about that for a moment, wondering if he should tell him. But, then, deciding that maybe he wouldn't remember or Flamel would erase his memories, he said, "July 31st."

"Really?" Albus asked, surprised. "That's just a couple weeks away."

"I know," he said softly. "When's yours? I never knew."

"August 3rd, 1881," he said. "Yours is… 1980, correct?"

He confirmed that with a nod. "I reckon it'll be odd when I get home again. I'll be 19, but I'm supposed to be 18."

"I wonder if your friends will notice you're a year older," Albus said.

"My friend Hermione will notice something," Harry said. "I mean, I'm going to tell them what happened to me. Hermione will say that it's impossible to travel a hundred years in the past. Ron will think it's brilliant and mental at the same time. My girlfriend, Ginny, I think she'll think it was good for me to see you."

"Why me?"

Harry couldn't tell him. That would be too much to tell. He shook his head.

"How are we so close?" Albus said, leaning forward a bit. "We're a 99 years apart, Harry. What made us so close? We're not… related are we? I'm not your, er, grandfather, am I?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "No, we're not related. At least, I don't think we are. I don't think you ever had children… or a wife."

Albus nodded again, seeming relieved by that. He sat in silence for a few moments, then looked up at Harry.

"You've been through death, haven't you, Harry?" Albus asked. "Who has died in your life?"

"Lots of people," Harry said, looking down at his hands. "My parents, godfather, teachers, friends." He paused for a moment, remembering the few months after the war ended, how hard those months had been to get through even over his victory. In some ways, it was nice to be somewhere else, where they weren't even born yet, where there was still possibility.

"Look, Albus," he said, pulling at the grass like Albus had before. "I know you've just lost your mum and I know you're lonely, and sad that you have to take care of your brother and sister. But, just… for me, please don't think you're stuck, because you're not."

Albus frowned slightly. His eyes seemed to become watery, which made Harry uncomfortable, but he didn't cry. He pushed his hair over his shoulder and waved his hand over the grass again, where the pieces that Harry pulled out were. They reattached instantly.

"You're not lying," Albus said plainly.

"No. See?" he lifted his right hand and showed him the scar still on his hand. I must not tell lies.

Albus hesitantly reached out to hold his hand. Harry left him. His grip was stronger than he thought it would be.

"This was made by the blood quill," Albus said, running his thumb over the markings. "Why in Merlin's name would you use that?"

"Detention with a horrible woman," he said, pulling his hand away. "It's a very long story."

"I feel my older counterpart would either think the story's brilliant or disgusting. I don't know which."

Harry smiled. "I think, in a way, both. More disgusting, though. You'll live through it eventually. You'll see."

Albus sighed. "In about 95 years." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth bag. It didn't take long for Harry to find out that he had jelly beans in it. "Want some?"

"I thought you didn't like Bertie Botts?" Harry asked, reaching into the bag for some.

"I don't. I got a vomit one once and I couldn't eat candy for days. These are the Muggle kind. Personally, I do like Muggle candy more. The general store sells it."

Harry smiled. "Ever tried sherbet lemons?"

"Oh, Merlin, yes. I love those," he said, reaching into the bag for more jelly beans. "They're my favorites."

"I thought so," Harry said. "Why do you like them so much?"

Albus shrugged, taking just a couple more before putting the bag back into his pocket of his trousers again. Harry thought it was quite strange seeing Albus in trousers, a white long sleeved shirt and a vest. He was so used to seeing Albus in robes, but he guessed the Muggles in the village would think it strange to see his normal school robes. Apparently Albus did have some other sense of fashion that didn't involved purple suits or magnificent midnight blue robes. He did in fact seem to know how to dress in clothes from the turn of the century.

"My father always got them for Ariana before the accident," Albus said, sadly. "After he'd gone to Azkaban, Ariana always asked for them. She never ate them, just gave them to me."

Harry couldn't help but think of Neville's mother doing the same, giving him candy wrappers. He looked down at the grass, but this time spotted a rock and took his wand out to levitate it. Albus smiled and reached for his wand in his belt, too. He tapped it and the rock turned into a small phoenix charm.

Harry grabbed it out of the air and held the rock in the palm of his hand. It looked exactly like Fawkes.

Then, Albus leaned against the tree and started humming. Harry listened, wondering where he'd heard the song before. He couldn't place it, although listening to it made him more relaxed.

Then, Albus started singing out loud.

"The birds around me hopped and played: their thought I cannot measure, but the least motion which they made, it seemed a thrill of pleasure." He began humming again as Harry pulled his mokeskin pouch from around his neck and slipped the little phoenix in the bag. Albus watched him, then abruptly stopped his singing.

"May I see what you have?" he asked.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He'd never shown anyone what was in the pouch, but he doubted Albus would know the significance of any of the objects, so he opened it again and pulled out the phoenix, laid that on the root of the tree, then reached in and pulled out his Snitch.

"Definitely a Seeker," Albus said, amused. "Who else would carry around a Snitch?"

Harry didn't respond as he pulled out his mother's letter and the photo that was torn in half. Albus picked up the picture and smiled, seeing Harry riding the broomstick. Then, Harry took another picture out, one of Teddy that Remus had been carrying the day he died. Albus picked that one up as well, but stared at it longer than the other one.

"This baby is a Metamorphmagus, isn't he?" He asked, looking at it closer.

"Yeah, he's my godson," Harry said. He missed Teddy greatly. They were the last of their dad's group of friends. They had to stick together. "Teddy."

Albus smiled. "I think you've mentioned him before. What's his last name?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but figured it wouldn't be too horrible to say. "Lupin. His grandmother is a Black, though."

"Ah, that explains that," Albus said, nodding. "There's one Metamorphmagus right now. I don't know his name."

He set the picture down on the root and then reached out for the letter, but Harry, panicking, pulled it away.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Harry shook his head. "You're mentioned in there quite a lot."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out for it again, but Harry put it away and instead brought the part of the two-way mirror out. He checked it, wondering if Aberforth could somehow see into it, but it was just clear like a normal mirror.

Albus seemed confused at the mirror, but didn't question it. Then, he pulled out the locket and the blank Marauder's Map.

"All of this must mean something profound to you."

Harry watched him touch the locket. Harry instantly felt himself going back in time to the night when Albus had died. He'd found that locket right next to Albus's body and now he was touching it again. Harry felt a stab of pain in his chest.

Albus caught his eye, looking up just slightly in the way he would do when he got his half-moon glasses later on. Harry tore his eyes away, hoping he didn't see any of his thoughts.

"Especially this one," he said, placing it down carefully on the tree root. Then, Albus reached for the Snitch and held it while looking at it curiously. "This feels familiar somehow."

He blinked and then shook his head. "This has my magic in it. But it feels very… warm."

His eyes began to fill with tears, which bewildered Harry immensely. He stared as Albus studied it closely.

"Whatever I did to this, it was out of love, but I was very sad," he said. Tears openly fell now, but Albus wouldn't let go. "It feels like now."

Harry held his hand out, hoping to get the Snitch back. Albus reluctantly let it go, setting it in his palm, but Harry immediately had to let it drop to the ground because the metal sent a shock through his skin.

"Would you say that's correct?" Albus asked as Harry began to place the items back into their pouch.

Harry glanced up at him and then looked away. "Yes, I think so."

He paused for a moment to put the pouch around his neck again. "Can you always feel emotions behind magic?"

He shook his head. "Only when it's particularly strong. That was just… overwhelming."

"There were only a few times I've felt that," Harry said, the hair on the back of neck standing. "It was very Dark magic."

Albus shook his head. "There's nothing Dark about that Snitch. It was too warm. The energy is extraordinary. If it weren't my magic, I probably wouldn't have felt it. I believe it would be too much for me to ask what is so special about it, wouldn't it?"

Harry nodded.

Albus wiped his tears away. Then they sat there a few minutes in comfortable silence before Albus asked, "Tell me about your friends. Ron and Hermione, did you say?"

Harry smiled and happily told him about his two best friends in the world. He missed them greatly, but talking of them for the first time out loud for a year made him feel like he'd never left them.

When it had gotten too dark, Albus stood up and reached to help Harry up. "Thank you for talking with me."

Harry nodded. Albus reached to shake his hand and then Harry disapparated back to Flamel's workshop, where he sat on the stool in the middle of the room, adding another ingredient to his potion.

"Six weeks now," Flamel said gruffly.

As Harry sat down next to him to work on some healing potions that Flamel had asked him to do, he wondered if he was really ready. Once he left, he'd never see his Headmaster again. But, he was definitely ready to see his best friends. Sometimes it was incredibly lonely, like he was back at the Dursley's again.

"I have another project for you," Flamel said. "Merrythought needs you for a few days."

Harry looked up at that. Really, he did like Merrythought. He could understand why she'd been a popular professor. He wished he'd have a Defense teacher like her. He just didn't understand why she needed him so suddenly.

"Pack what you need. You're leaving in an hour when she arrives for dinner."

"A few days?" Harry asked. "But I was hoping to talk to Albus-"

"Merrythought needs you. You'll see him soon enough."

So, with that, Harry stood and reluctantly went to pack to go to Hogwarts.

* * *

When Albus woke up the next morning, he didn't understand at first, but at the tapping on his window, he sat up, glancing to check if Aberforth was awake. He wasn't even in bed. Confused, he looked up at the window.

He stood up and looked out into the yard. Gellert stood there.

"Albus, I think you should see this!"

Albus, confused and slightly delirious from sleep, said, "What?"

"Get dressed. Come on."

After Albus pulled on his trousers and shoes, he went around to the front yard. The sun was just being to come up.

"What are you showing me?" Albus asked, hearing Aberforth swear in the backyard.

"You'll see," he said, beginning to run. Albus closed his eyes tightly, too tired to run, but he did, anyway.

Albus found himself in front of the graveyard again. He stopped as Gellert unlocked the gate. He didn't want to go in there again. Not ever again. His mother was in there now.

"Come on, Albus, you'll like this."

"I don't think I'll ever like anything that involves dead bodies under my feet," Albus muttered, but stepped around the gate, anyway, to follow him.

They went past rows of graves until they finally went down one that was near to his mother's. He could see the freshly covered grave in the corner of his eye when Gellert stopped right in front of another.

"Look at the symbol," Gellert said.

The triangle with a line through the middle and a circle was unfamiliar to Albus, but the name wasn't. Ignotus Peverell's grave.

"Wait, is that…" Albus said, kneeling down and fingering the carving.

"Yep," Gellert said.

"I knew the Peverell's were rumored to be the brother in the story. But this…" He turned to look up at Gellert with a smile. "This is really them, isn't it? I tried to find information on the Peverell's in December around here-"

"It's brilliant!" Gellert yelled out, spreading his arms out wide. "Look at the date, too. It's 1291. That's about two hundred years before Beedle the Bard wrote the story. I could never find when the brothers were alive, but this is proof!"

Gellert fell to his knees beside Albus and trailed his finger across the symbol like Albus had just done. He smiled widely. "Cloak, wand, stone. I found this in a book in the library a couple years ago. It's brilliant, isn't it?"

Albus nodded, glancing up at from the stone to Gellert. He caught his eyes, which were a darker blue than Albus's own, but just as bright. But what happened next took Albus's breath away: a ray of morning light caught Gellert's, causing them to twinkle like light catching water the same way. It felt as if he could see into his soul, and for a moment, he suspected he had. He could see Gellert looking through books in a dark library. But the breathless feeling lingered even longer than the memory. He'd never felt anything like that before and he felt like it should have scared it, but all it did was make him want to stare at Gellert all day.

"You all right, Albus?" Gellert asked, his eyebrows knitting.

He tore his eyes away. "Of course, Gellert."

"If Ignotius is buried here, I bet his cloak is around here somewhere," Gellert said, glancing around as if it were sitting on a gravestone, just waiting for him to pick it up.

"I thought you believed Ignotius to be the cowardly one?" Albus said, standing. Gellert followed.

"I did, but to do the whole conquering death thing, Albus, you have to have all three." He rolled his eyes and led Albus toward the gate of the graveyard again. Albus glanced back toward his mother's, but he couldn't see it after a few steps. He realized he fell behind Gellert.

"You know how to become invisible, correct?" Albus asked, rushing to catch up with him.

"Of course!" he said. "Just a more refined disillusionment charm. So simple. You wouldn't believe what I got away with at Durmstrang."

"That's how you were at the funeral," Albus said, frowning. "I can do the same with my disillusionment, but I feel like I should have felt that."

Gellert shrugged, but said nothing as he let Albus through the gate first and then closed it again.

"Do you think it's really possible to find all three Deathly Hallows?" Albus asked as they walked together into town.

"Of course," Gellert said, scoffing. "They're around England somewhere."

"Why do you want them?" Albus asked. Though, really, he did want them too. They sounded so powerful! The ability to escape death… it was fascinating.

"Why wouldn't you want them?" Gellert said, shaking his head. "Could you imagine what you could do with objects like that?"

Albus smiled. Oh, he could think of plenty of things. With the wand, he could be powerful in the Ministry. He could be Minister with the wand and his thoughts! He could be the best Minister England ever saw.

But what was more… he could see his parents again with the stone.

"You see?" Gellert said, smirking.

He smiled to himself as they walked together for a minute or two. The whole time, though, he could see himself in the Ministry's top office.

Gellert went immediately into the general store to buy an apple, which brought Albus back to reality.

"Hello, Albus, dear," said Sylvia, who worked at the store. She was a pretty red headed girl who Albus suspected Aberforth had a bit of a crush on. Not counting the disaster that year at school with the poor girl in his year. "How are you and your brother doing? I meant to go to the funeral yesterday, but my husband had a bit of a head cold."

"We're well enough," Albus said. "Thank you."

"If you need anything at all…" Sylvia said as Gellert handed her a shilling.

When they left the store, Gellert glanced at Albus. "I thought you had a sister, too."

"Uh, no," Albus said. "Just a brother."

"Hmpf," Gellert muttered, rubbing the apple against his shirt, then taking a bite of it. "I swear I saw a girl with your brother this morning. Blonde hair, slightly erratic."

"Must have been seeing things."

Gellert raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else to that. They walked the square, Albus telling Gellert about the different shop keepers.

Then once they wandered back to Albus's house to sit under a tree at the front of the house, for the rest of the morning he and Gellert talked about the differences and similarities in Durmstrang and Hogwarts education and how they would change things if they ever became Headmasters.

Albus didn't even notice his brother glaring at them through the window.

* * *

As Albus and Gellert talked in Godric's Hollow, Harry helped Merrythought sort through her piles of books in Scotland that morning.

"Nicolas has been telling me you've been seeing Albus," Merrythought said as she flipped through one book and placed it on the shelf. She'd told him that she finally convinced Phineas Nigellus that she needed more bookshelves in her office, but Harry wondered why they were dong this manually because it felt much more like a detention than anything else. "I think-"

"I know," Harry said. "But I need to talk to him. I was once called 'Dumbledore's man through and through.' I have to get to know him more."

She sighed. "I know… That's why- Nevermind."

"Nevermind what?" Harry asked, flipping through one book she had called 'Encountering the Uncounterable."

"I brought you here so I could do ask you to do something. Nicolas has no idea I'm doing this but-"

Harry gasped. He stared down at the book, not believing what he was seeing.

"What?" Merrythought asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Harry said, shutting the book and placing it on the shelf wearily. He had thought there weren't any book that mentioned Horcrux in the school! But there it was, right on Merrythought's shelf. "What were you saying?"

Merrythought placed a stack of books next to the book he'd put on the shelf. "I'd like you to write a letter."

"A letter?" he asked, confused. "Why?"

She cringed slightly and sat down in the chair that sat across from her desk. "You said Albus dies."

Harry nodded, looking down at the next book.

"What day does he die?"

"June 30, 1997," Harry said. He doubted he would ever forget the date, like he'd never forget Sirius's, Fred's, Snape's, Remus's, Tonks's, his parents.

"Nicolas is taking his memories," she said, pushing a piece of hair that came out of her braid behind her ear. "But… I want to give them back to him."

Harry stared. "What? How?"

"Through the letter… I can charm it so that he can't open the letter until I say he can. I'll give it to him before I die, assuming I do die?"

Harry shrugged and said apologetically: "I have no idea when you do. I never met you. I just heard mention of you."

She nodded slowly. "Well, I'll give it to him sometime in the future. When you do get back into the future, will you look me up? I'd love to see you again."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I'll do that."

She looked away, a sad smile on her face. "Back to the letter. I know there are things you'd like to say to him that you won't be able to say here. I think it would be good for you to let him know what those things are, so he can hear them before he dies. I won't read it or anything. I'll just charm it. I've been doing research, I've found a way to embed forgotten memories into paper. This would have to be done after you leave, but I know I can do it."

Harry nodded, but overall, he wasn't so sure if he should do it. He'd like Dumbledore to remember him being there, but he wasn't sure if that was a good idea to do. What if Dumbledore rejected the memories that came back to him? What if that changed how his last day went, with Harry being there with him in the cave?

"Look, can I think about this?" Harry asked, flipping through the next book he'd picked up.

She nodded. Then, they kept going with the books until Merrythought announced she had a summer staff meeting in the Great Hall. "Harry, don't leave this room. I know you have your fancy map and cloak, but I'd rather you stay here."

Harry nodded.

But once she left, he pulled the book he'd seen with the mention of Horcruxes and tore out the page. Then, once a few minutes went by, he doned his cloak and went to the library.

There, he scavenged through the books, looking for any mention of Horcruxes.

* * *

_A/N: Soooo I managed to write this chapter out. I'm kind of regretting not adding Merrythought in more to this story… along with a lot of other things. Maybe a rewrite whenever I get this story finished?_

_Also, someone wanted Grindelwald and Harry to meet again… They will. I promise :)_

_Edit: I completely forgot to credit the little poem Albus sang! It's from Wordsworth and Coleridge's Lyrical Ballads book :) _


	25. 25: Results

**Chapter 25: Results**

* * *

Aberforth sat outside under the tree in the front lawn, watching as Albus went off yet again with Grindelwald. This had been going on for days and, frankly, Aberforth was tired of it.

In Aberforth's opinion, his brother didn't seem to be grieving at all. All he did was talk about dumb Grindelwald and his brilliant theories on magic that they talked about for hours upon hours while Aberforth was stuck at home watching Ariana.

Thankfully, Ariana was finally upstairs sleeping after a bad night of fits and magical outbursts. He suspected she was reliving their mother's death during the night. Last night had been particularly bad. Albus had stood at the door, watching on, giving extremely unhelpful advice.

"You should get her water. No, don't do that! She'll choke. This kind of magic is volatile. You shouldn't get so close."

Aberforth glared at him and finally, after an hour of his interjections, he yelled, "Go put a damn silencing charm on our room and go to sleep! I can handle this!"

"She's my sister, too-"

"I don't care! Go away!"

Albus turned on his heel with a huff. After a few hours, Aberforth finally got her to sleep and felt relieved. Even though he was just as tired, he went down to do his daily milking of the goats and then went out on the front lawn to sketch creatures out of one of Albus's textbooks.

And about an hour into it was when Grindelwald showed up, leaning over the picket fence to try to see what Aberforth was drawing.

"Nice details," he said, smirking. "You messed up the eyes, though. They're a teensy bit bigger than that."

Aberforth shot him a glare and nearly stabbed his quill into Grindelwald's eye. See how he'd like having an eye slightly bigger…

Albus coming out of house stopped his impulse, though. He had his arms filled with books and said, "Gellert, I've found that book I was talking to you about yesterday. I will see you this afternoon, Abe."

Grindelwald reached over and ruffled Aberforth's hair, much to his dismay. He only laughed when Aberforth sent him a rude gesture with his hand.

"What?" asked Albus, the gate falling closed.

"Nothing," Gellert said. "Bye, little Abe."

Aberforth huffed again. 'You're not much older than me,' he thought. 'And I'm taller, so there.'

Aberforth glared at them until they disappeared into Bathilda's house next door. Then, he looked back down at his drawing. The eyes on his chimera were fine.

He loathed Grindelwald. Why did Albus have to be friends with him so suddenly? He was even more arrogant than Albus. At least Albus had some sense. He was at least polite. Grindelwald, with his smirk and his superior attitude more suffocating than Albus's, was just infuriating. He hated how he came waltzing into the Dumbledore house like he belonged there. Aberforth always had to rush Ariana away, hoping she wouldn't be seen because he knew one sight of her by him and the whole village would know about her.

Aberforth almost wished Potter had come back. At least he was interesting. He was a time-traveler! He had something special about him. Albus and Grindelwald, on the other hand…

Aberforth sighed, then, he brought his wand out and tapped the page with a spell he invented that made the page read out to him in his head. He listened to the information on Chimera's eating patterns as he drew and tried not to think about how livid his brother and _boyfriend_ made him become.

Something pecked at him minutes later. He blinked, saying "Finite" and tapping his wand against the page again. The barn owl, which he recognized as one from Hogwarts named Hopp, held out his leg for him to untie the letter attached to it.

Aberforth frowned, wondering why he was getting a letter. Normally it was Albus who received the mall.

But, sure enough, the first letter held his name. That he could read well enough. The second one held Albus's name.

Then, Aberforth's heart started pounding. There were his O.W.L results and Albus's N.E.W.T's!

Oh, they were going to be bad! What would mother-

He blinked, realizing what he'd just thought. "Huh," he muttered to himself. "I just have to worry about Albus. Odd." He felt his eyes tear up slightly at the thought, but she shook that off, breaking the seal of his envelope and then tapping the letter.

"Ordinary Wizarding Level Results. Aberforth W.H.A Dumbledore has achieved: Art: O, Astronomy: A, Care of Magical Creatures: O, Charms: O, Defense Against the Dark Arts: E, Herbology: O, History of Magic: P, Potions: E, Transfiguration: A."

He stared, wondering if Hogwarts somehow had gotten his results mixed up with his brother's. There was no possibility that he had received so many O's! He'd gotten 7 O.W.L's. He thought he wouldn't even scrape two!

But when he thought back to the oral exam he'd received in one of the back room's just off the Great Hall, he did think his answers had been good. He explained everything as well as he could and there hadn't really been a question he wasn't sure about when he told the proctor what he knew.

He sat there for a long time, staring down at the letters. So many O's! He never thought he'd see that before in his life, or really understand what it meant.

For once, he was happy. This was wonderful! Oh, if his mother could be there!

"Thanks, Hopp," he said to the little owl. He scratched his head and the owl affectionate nibbled his finger for a moment. "You want to take Albus his, or shall I give it to him?"

Hopp bumped his head against Aberforth's hand, then spread his wings and took off. Aberforth guessed that meant that Aberforth had to give Albus his results.

Aberforth smiled widely down at his letter again, then tucked it carefully into his sketchbook. How absolutely wonderful.

When the bell from the chapel rang twelve times, Aberforth stood to go back inside to wake Ariana for lunch.

"Guess what, Ariana," he said as he made her lunch.

"Hm?" she said, looking up from where she was scribbling on an old Daily Prophet.

"I got good grades on my testing," he said, sitting down next to her.

"You're happy," she said, smiling serenely. "I like happy."

"I know you do," he said, standing up again because he noticed her hair was out of place. He braided it for her as she ate. "I think Albus will be happy when he hears. Or think I've cheated somehow. He's got top grades, of course."

"He's smart," Ariana said.

"Yes." Aberforth frowned, trying the ribbon at the very end of her hair.

"You are, too."

He shook his head as he sat down beside her again. "I think you're the only one that believes in me. I love you." Aberforth doubted she would understand exactly what he meant. He wondered if she even understood when he mentioned testing, even though she said Albus was smart.

She smiled again and scribbled on the newspaper again. "I love you, too."

"What do you think I should do?" Aberforth said, running a hand through his hair. It was getting long, but it still wasn't as long as Albus's. "Should I stay here with you instead of going to school?"

"Stay! Please. Stay!" she said, reaching over to grab his arm. She hugged it tightly, her thin hands clinging desperately to him. "I love you. Don't go."

He smiled sadly. "I don't think Albus would allow it. He wants me to finish. But I want to stay here with you."

"Stay," she said again, holding onto him tighter. "Please. Please. Please."

She kept repeating Please as Aberforth pried her hands from his arm, which was beginning to go numb.

The door opened. Aberforth tried to jerk his arm from Ariana, but she wouldn't let go. He looked up, through the door of the kitchen, and saw Albus there. He seemed to be telling Grindelwald to stay there.

"Hi, Abe," Albus said.

Aberforth relaxed, though he moved Ariana out of sight of the door as Albus grabbed an apple from near the sink.

"What's she talking about?" he asked, surveying them. Ariana still wouldn't let go of Aberforth, and still said, "Please," over and over again.

"Nothing," he said. He picked up the envelope that had Albus's name on it and handed it over to him. "N.E.W.T results."

His eyes widened and he set his apple on the table. He tore the seal off immediately, and his hands seemed to shake as his eyes scanned over the letter.

"All Outstandings!" he said, smiling widely. "Wait until I tell Gellert!"

Aberforth rolled his eyes, finally pulling his arm out of Ariana's grasp. Albus looked down at Aberforth and held out his hand. Why was everyone trying to attack him with their arms?

"May I see your O.W.L results?"

Aberforth glared up at him for a moment. Should he?

"Now," Albus demanded.

Aberforth slowly opened his journal, grabbed the parchment, and handed it to him.

Albus looked down at him as he unfolded it, then read through it.

But as he did, his bright eyes widened, but did not twinkle.

"This is…" he said, shocked all over his face. Aberforth smirked.

"I'll let you think of a good word for that as I put Ariana back in her room for a while," Aberforth said. "She's only had about four of sleep so far."

He nodded dumbly. When Aberforth got back downstairs, he noticed Grindelwald slouched in the chair, one arm hanging over the back. He looked up at Aberforth with a smirk.

"Well, here's the genius himself," Grindelwald said. "Who knew it ran in the family?"

Aberforth glared at him as he snatched his journal from the table.

"You did wonderful, brother," Albus said. "I wish Mother could see."

Aberforth ignored him. "Where's the parchment?" he asked, looking around for it. Albus handed it to him and then, Albus stalked back upstairs to watch Ariana, just in case she had an outburst while Grindelwald was there.

Why did Grindelwald have to be there? Why couldn't he have a quiet summer to grieve his mother and not have to worry about anything getting in the way?

At least he managed good grades. Albus didn't hate him or give him a lecture on how he had to make better grades for the greater good of the Wizarding World. As if one person would make that much difference if they got a Troll on all of their subjects.

He sighed and looked up at Ariana sleeping, wishing she didn't have to hide. Wishing that he could talk to her properly.

* * *

Albus looked down at his pocket watch, thinking that it would be early in the afternoon, but instead was shocked to find it was nearly dinner. He looked up toward the window, noticing that the sun was indeed in the west.

"Where did the time go?" Albus asked, starting to gather the pieces of parchment they'd been writing ideas and plans on. Albus, who had been working on an article for Transfiguration Today, was happy to have Gellert's input on matters relating to human transfiguration, but it was going to be late soon and Aberforth and Ariana would come down any minute.

"Meet again tomorrow morning?" Gellert asked. "I'd love to talk more about what we were talking about yesterday, with the Deathly Hallows how much of an affect they'd have on the Wizarding World if someone with a position of power had them. That was fascinating."

"I found that an excellent conversation, as well. Yes, I think we should."

Albus smiled and watched reluctantly as Grindelwald left the Dumbledore house. When the front door closed, he called out to Aberforth, "You can come down with Ariana now!"

He cleaned up the rest of the papers and stuffed them into a book while he listened for their footsteps.

"Finally," Aberforth said, stretching as he came down the stairs. "Will you leave the house so Ariana can walk around?"

Albus sighed, pulling down plates from the cabinet and placing them on the table. "I was thinking-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, you never stop thinking."

"I was thinking," Albus interjected again. "That we should let Gellert meet her. He's Mrs. Bagshot's nephew. I think he'd be fine to tell."

"What! No!" Aberforth yelled.

"Why not?" Albus said, sitting down at the table across from Aberforth. "I remember you saying, what was it, last summer before I went on my apprenticeship? You wished Mother would tell people we have a sister. Why are you changing you mind now?"

"I don't trust him!"

Albus stared. He didn't 'trust' him? He never trusted anyone. "You didn't trust Harry."

Aberforth raised his eyebrows. "He's from the future, Albus. The future. He knows all sorts. He probably knows what happened to us. He probably knows when we died. He probably knew our mother died, Albus. Why do you think I don't trust him?"

Albus sighed. "He knows about Ariana."

"Because you told him?"

"My counterpart, most likely."

Aberforth groaned. "See? I don't trust him. We don't know where he found out that information. And how do we even know for sure he's from the future?"

"He is," Albus said. He was positive. How else would Harry have gotten an old man with a white beard, whom looked uncannily like Albus, in his mind? Merrythought and Flamel trusted him, as well. If they, who had good instincts, could trust him, then Albus could trust him. "He's not lying."

"He's weird, Albus," Aberforth said. "And Grindelwald is foul. I don't like the way he treats me. At least Potter was kind. He talked to me like he knew me. Grindelwald thinks I'm three!"

"He does not-"

Aberforth glared him just enough to make Albus sigh and stand up. "Look, Aberforth, Grindelwald is good company. He's intelligent and-"

"Oh, finally, you admit that someone's intelligent! Because no one else in the world is, according to your enormous, ignorant brain!"

"Shut. Up!" Albus yelled furiously, tired of Aberforth's interruption. Aberforth just crossed his arms, sneering and glaring at him.

But Ariana, who had been sitting there quietly, looking back at forth between them, suddenly screamed. Aberforth jumped, looking at their sister, then he reached over and rubbed her back. "Shh, Ariana, shh," he said softly as she continued to scream. "It's all right, Ariana. Please. You're fine, you're fine. Shh. Ignore him. He's mad at me, not you."

Albus looked on, unsure of what to do. He covered his ears, feeling ashamed for loosing his temper. He looked toward the floor, waiting for her to calm down. When she did, she sobbed quietly into Aberforth's shoulder.

"Thanks a lot," Aberforth said to Albus.

"I'm sorry-" he began, but Aberforth's glare quieted him.

He frowned, feeling tears burning in the corner of his eyes.

Then, he walked out of the room, paced the living area for a moment, before living the house completely. He'd been so stupid. Why did he have to yell? He never yelled!

He thought about going to Gellert, but second guessed that. Gellert would ask why Albus was acting this way and he couldn't deal with that.

So, like every other day that past week, he went into the woods lining the road outside his house and went along to the meadow.

Maybe Harry would be there. He hoped he would.

But then again, Harry hadn't been there the whole week. He'd waited there for an hour or so by himself, waiting for Harry to apparate there. Each evening, he left sadly, wondering where he'd gone.

Honestly, it made Albus think he'd done something wrong. Maybe he'd pried too much. Maybe Harry didn't want to see him again.

He thought that way every time he sat down in the meadow, and each day that went by, he was sure he was right.

He felt lonely. He was used to being surrounded by people. If he were on his world tour trip, he would have been able to see lots of people and see other cultures. But here, he was just stuck. He had a great new friend in Gellert, but part of him also wanted Elphias and Harry.

In a way, he felt abandoned. Elphias was off having fun, touring all sorts of places. Harry was no where to be found.

And even though Harry said he shouldn't feel like he was stuck, he still was.

It made him want to see Gellert more because at least then he was someone for company.

Albus sighed and stared up at the pink colored sky. He liked it when the sky turned that color. It made everything around him seem golden, even if he didn't feel so golden at the moment.

He called out to Fawkes. When his bird flew to him, he ran a hand over his head. He began singing and instantly, Albus felt better.

How did everything seem to change so fast?

* * *

Harry ran. He could feel his invisibility cloak streaming behind him and the stack of books he was carrying wobbled as he ascended the stairs. His heart beat rapidly, but he had to get to the seventh floor.

He had to get these books hidden. He had to rush.

But just two floors away from the library, he heard footsteps.

He groaned and hid behind a suit of armor, listening carefully and looking down to make sure his feet were covered.

He was sure it would just be one of the teachers wandering around, but when he heard the voice of Phineas Nigellus, his heart jumped to an even faster rate. Was the meeting Merrythought went to already over? Now he was in major trouble once she found out he had gone.

"-The Dumbledore's," said Phineas.

Harry held his breath as the footsteps came closer. Who was he talking to?

"I was planning on checking in on them in a couple days," said a man. As they stepped passed Harry, he realized it was Cadmus Potter. He stared, wide eyed, hoping they wouldn't hear his breathing. "I've seen Albus around with Bathilda Bagshot's nephew. Haven't really seen Aberforth."

"I remember when my mother died," said Phineas. "Awful thing. What caused her death? Was she ill?"

"Yes, she was ill," Cadmus said. Harry knew he was lying.

"Hm," Phineas said. There was a slight pause and they stopped walking when they got to the staircase. They seemed to watch the moving stairs. "I checked both Dumbledores' exam results."

Cadmus chuckled slightly. "Yes? Let me guess, Albus has all Outstandings and Aberforth has two O.W.L.s."

"You're right about the eldest brother."

"Oh? And Aberforth?"

"Seven total."

Harry's eyes widened, not sure how to react to that information.

"Merlin! Really? Who knew someone whom throws goat dung at women would receive seven O.W.L's!"

"Goat dung?"

"That was an awful day," Cadmus said, shaking his head. "I was doing paperwork for days because of that."

Harry's arms were beginning to hurt from holding onto the few books he'd found in the library mentioning Horcruxes. He knew he hadn't found all of them, but the less material Tom Riddle had in the future, the better.

"Any word on this Potter fellow that helped Merrythought last year?" Phineas asked. Harry head snapped up, listening more closely than before.

"No, none at all," Cadmus said. "It seems he doesn't even exist. I'm guessing whoever he was, he's long gone by now. There haven't been any sightings of anyone who matches his description since he left here. Personally, I think he made up the last name, probably saw my name in the paper at some point and adopted it. As long as he didn't hurt anyone while he was here, I think there's not much we can go on."

Phineas huffed slightly. "There was something odd going on. I don't like it and he shouldn't get away with whatever he was doing! I know Dumbledore and Merrythought were covering for him. I just know it."

"That's not enough to go on, Headmaster. I'm sorry."

"Well," Phineas huffed again. "What about your son? You said he knew him."

"He thought he was kind. Atticus said most of the students liked him, said he was a quiet and modest fellow who mostly observed the classes and helped out when he could. He doesn't seem like any sort of threat to me."

Harry looked down the hall, wondering if he could sneak away.

"Well," Phineas said. "He's still-"

Harry had tried moving carefully down the hall, but his shoe squeaked against the stone floor.

"Who's there?" Phineas called out loudly. "Peeves! Is that you? Do I need to call the Bloody Baron?"

Harry stopped dead. Why did these books have to weigh so much? He swore they had to be over a hundred pounds all together, even if that hadn't felt so heavy when he first stacked them.

"Revelio," Cadmus said, waving his wand.

Nothing happened. Harry sighed in relief.

"Hm," Cadmus muttered.

They stood there for another moment, surveying the hallway behind them, and then stepped forward. "Oh, hello, Merrythought!" Phineas said as they started up the stairs.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. How did that suddenly get so much worse?

But, thankfully, Harry only saw a small glimpse of her catching up with Cadmus and Phineas and they were all walking up the stairs, away from Harry.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, then he began running again, his arms sore. Finally, he reached the seventh floor. Slowly, he walked along the familiar wall three times, saying in his mind, "I need a place to hide these books where Tom Riddle and Voldemort will never find them. I need a place to hide these books where Tom Riddle and Voldemort will never find them."

When the door appeared, he stepped into the little room with only a table. He placed them down with much relief and then he covered himself with the cloak again.

He ran full out, back down to Merrythought's office.

He was preparing himself for her yelling. He knew she would be incredibly angry.

He peeked into the office, expecting the yelling to come immediately, but i was completely silent. Again, in relief, he entered and began sorting through the books again.

Half an hour later when Merrythought came back, she mentioned nothing. She only handed Harry several sheets of parchment and told him write.

He stared down at the parchment as she sorted through student papers stacked up on her desk. He tried very hard to think of what to write, but throughout the whole afternoon, he'd only written "July 9, 1898," and "Dear Professor Dumbledore," at the top of the page.

"I thought you wanted to say some things to him," Merrythought said, looking over his shoulder.

Harry sighed, shrugging. "I just…"

She smiled softly. "Odd to see him being referred to as 'Professor Dumbledore,'" she said. "I'm so used to 'Mr. Dumbledore.'"

"'Mr. Dumbledore' sounds mad to me," Harry said, laughing.

She grinned and shook her head. "Well. Think it through tonight."

They had a quiet dinner together, talking over some of Harry's travels he'd gone on that year.

Over the next few days, Harry alternated between helping Merrythought organize her office and writing drafts of a letter to Dumbledore. On the day that they finally finished cleaning the office without magic, Harry had a letter.

"Are you ready?" she asked, taking Harry's folded letter.

Harry nodded and she put the spell on it that sealed the letter shut until June 29, 1997.

"It's hard to believe he'll be around for another 99 years," she said softly. "Somehow that seems like a very long time from now, but no time at all."

Harry couldn't help but feel homesickness. He wanted back. He wanted to see his friends.

An hour later, Harry left Hogwarts. Merrythought had hugged him tightly. "I have a feeling this will be the last we'll see each other," she said. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Harry said, barely returning the hug. "Thank you for helping me this year."

She smiled again. "Thank you for helping me. It was lovely to meet you and I hope to see you again in the future."

Harry grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

"Oh, and Harry, whatever you did to my books and the library books, it better be with good reason-"

But Harry was already gone before he could reply.

* * *

_A/N: Ha. Okay, explanation on Aberforth's grades before people get on me: Seriously. I think Aberforth is smarter than most people think he is. I mean, he's a Dumbledore and I thought in the canon books that he was pretty smart. He sounded smart to me. I believe the only problems with Aberforth is that he's strong headed, doesn't study as hard as Albus, and is a bit more eccentric then him, too… I mean… uh, inappropriate spells on a goat? There's something wrong with that kid. But he is eccentric smart. So, that's my explanation why he got such high grades. I think Ariana would have excelled in school if she'd gotten the chance, too._

_Also, someone asked me about the timelines… if Harry actually changes things or if all this was meant to happen. Some mild things have changed but only because of mistakes I've made with misremembering canon. But, honestly, things are meant to have happened all along. I'll just say that now._

_Anyway, other than that, I want to thank you all for the reviews :D and to also thank you for sticking with this story. I know I'm really slow at updating, so thanks for being patient with me._


	26. 26: The Greater Good

**Chapter 26: The Greater Good**

* * *

Harry could see Albus sitting on his front steps with Grindelwald. They were talking softly to each other, too quiet for Harry to hear from where he stood at the gate. He wondered if he should leave and come walking back without his invisibility cloak. From what it sounded with Cadmus Potter, the Aurors weren't really looking anymore.

But just as he was about to do that, Grindelwald stood up, took out his wand, and showed Albus a very familiar wand.

Harry stared, shocked.

"I thought this was the wand in the story," Grindelwald said in his slight German accent. "It's not. All my evidence led up to Gregorovich's shop. I bought this from him when I needed a new wand."

Harry's eyes widened. How could it not be? It looked, from the distance, to be the exact same one.

"How do you know it's not it?" Albus asked, reaching out for Grindelwald to hand it to him. He let him and Albus studied it closely.

"I have a feeling it's not. Legend has it the core is Thestral hair. Of course, that would be a logical assumption, since Thestral's represent death. This wand has a unicorn hair, and the wood is Ash. It's not it. I thought for certain…"

Harry almost collapsed. So Grindelwald had been to Gregorovich's shop and come up empty handed. Gregorovich must have hid the real Elder wand somewhere else.

"I'm sure Gregorovich has it, though," Grindelwald said, taking the wand from Albus again. "There are only so many wand-makers in the world."

"How did you find out he had it, anyway?" Albus asked. "And why would he sell it to you? Wouldn't you think he'd keep it?"

Grindelwald's eyes widened just slightly. "I found out in a pub. Apparently he'd been bragging about it to someone." He paused just a moment, looking away from Albus. "And my 'bought' I mean snatched."

"You _stole_-"

"Shh!" Grindelwald said, slamming his hand against Albus's mouth and looking around. "It was for research!"

Albus's eyes were no longer bright. They were narrowed as he looked up at Grindelwald. He had dropped his hand again and sat back down next to Albus.

"Still, Gellert-"

"Shush," he said, shaking his head. "It's not the wand, anyway."

Albus still seemed skeptical, which Harry was glad for.

"I'm positive Gregorovich has it," Gellert said, sighing. Then, he pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "Anyway, This letter you sent me-"

Albus smiled suddenly, his eyes brightening again. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

"'We have been given power and yes, that power gives us the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled.' Beautifully expressed, Albus," Grindelwald said, grinning widely now. "But, this point right here, 'For the greater good'! It makes my heart burst! You're completely right, Albus. If we want to have control over the Muggles… I mean, why shouldn't we have control?"

Gellert paused for a moment, looking as though he really would burst. Harry stared.

"We're shrouded in secrecy for being feared by them! The way I see it, they're the minority, not us. We have a greater power they have no idea about! Our magic could only be the greater good for all of them. Our pain of being hidden is only for the pleasure of the Muggles! If both magical people and Muggles could co-exist with our magic being the ultimate rule, we'd never have to worry about being in secret again. Oh, it's wonderful. For the Greater Good."

Grindelwald shook his head, looking exasperated at the same time as being happy. "You're completely right. Totally and completely right."

Albus actually looked immensely proud of himself. Harry had never seen him like that, as if he were a child that just got praised for a drawing. Harry didn't know what to think. He'd heard all of this before, but to see how Albus reacted to Grindelwald's praise scared him more than the feelings of betrayal he'd felt when he first read that letter in Rita Skeeter's book.

Harry felt slightly sick to his stomach, though. But just as he was about to walk away, Harry heard a woman call, "Gellert!" from the house next door. Grindelwald frowned.

"Got to go," he said reluctantly. "See you tomorrow?"

"Of course, Gellert," said Albus.

Harry stepped out of the way of the gate as Grindelwald walked toward it. Harry looked up at Albus as Gellert closed the gate and went on his way. Hewas surprised to see him wearing a serene sort of smile that didn't look much unlike the smile Ariana wore in Aberforth's portrait of her.

Once Gellert was out of sight, Albus began to hum happily as he leaned against the front door.

Harry nearly revealed himself as standing there, but Albus looked as if he was much too far off in his thoughts. Harry felt as if he should look away, but after a few minutes, Albus stood up and opened the door, calling out, "Aberforth! I'm going into town! Do you need anything?"

Harry moved out of the way again for Albus to leave the gate. Then he followed him into the village, where he stopped by the General Store. Harry stood off in a corner, watching him talk with the store keeper, a woman apparently named Sylvia.

"Where's your little friend?" she asked him.

He actually blushed slightly as he messed with postcards stacked by the register. "He's away right now. Look, do you have any sherbet lemons? You were out the other day."

"We just got some in today," she said, smiling. Then, she reached under counter. "I knew you'd come by for them."

Albus grinned widely and then reached into his pocket for money. But to Harry's amazement, she said, "No, take them. Count it as an early birthday present."

"Oh, I couldn't-"

"Please, I insist," she said.

Albus looked as if he'd just been told he was Minister of Magic. "You're too kind. Thank you."

He leaned over the counter to kiss her cheek and took the bag of candiese tapped his fingers on the counter for a moment. "Sylvia?"

"Hm?" she asked, looking up from a sheet of paper.

"I was wondering-"

The bell over the door chimed. Albus looked up in disappointment when he saw the man coming in from outside.

"Nevermind," Albus said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Albus."

Albus seemed to sulk out of the store, but instead of going around to other shops, he began walking back toward his house. When he sat outside underneath the tree in the front, Harry knew this would be a good time to reveal himself.

He opened the gate and Albus immediately looked up.

"Albus, it's me," Harry said.

"Harry?" he asked. Harry pulled the cloak off him and stuffed it in his pocket. Albus smiled and then gestured for Harry to sit down next to him. He instead sat further away, near bushes that could hide him from view of the street, but he could still see Albus perfectly well.

"Where were you?" Albus asked him, holding the bag of sherbet lemons out to Harry. He refused like he always had.

"Professor Merrythought," Harry said. "We were cleaning up her office."

"What did you do to have to have that as a punishment?" Albus asked, chuckling.

"I wish I knew," Harry said. "Er, what have you been up to?"

He sighed and looked up to Bathilda's house before looking down at his candies again. "I've been chatting with Gellert Grindelwald. He's been good company."

"Oh," Harry said as if it didn't bother him even though it did. He decided it was best to not talk about that. "I heard all O's on your N.E.W.T."

He grinned proudly. "I did. Twelve total. Did Professor Merrythought tell you or did I tell you?"

It took Harry a moment to figure out what he meant by if he told him the results himself, but then, of course, he remembered. "Actually, I heard to from Phineas Black a few days ago."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "You saw him? Harry, you know the Ministry's after you!"

"It didn't sound much like it," Harry said. Then, he told Albus all that he had overheard.

Albus listened patiently, and once he finished, he stared at an area just over Harry's shoulder.

"I still wouldn't recommend being seen," Albus said. "Cadmus sounds nice, but he can be ruthless at the same time."

"I figured that," Harry said. "He thinks I made up my name."

"Are you sure you didn't make it up?" Albus asked in amusement. Harry laughed. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Harry stopped laughing abruptly. He stared straight at Dumbledore, remembering the few times Dumbledore had asked him that in the future.

"What?" Albus asked, confused.

"Nothing," Harry said, shaking his head. "I promise my real name is Harry Potter."

"What's your middle name?" Albus asked.

"James," he said.

"How do I know your name isn't Harry James and you just added the Potter later?" Albus asked. Harry knew he was joking and he laughed without responding.

"Do you want to meet Gellert?" Albus went on after a few minutes pause. "I mean, I know you've already met him. He mentioned that."

Harry hesitated. Did he want to get involved with Grindelwald and Albus? That could only mean a disaster later.

"Er…" Harry said.

"I know he can be a little-

"Albus, did you get those- Potter?"

Albus and Harry both jerked there heads up at the door to see Aberforth standing there. Ariana peeked her head out from under his arm.

"I thought you went back to, you know, the future," Aberforth said, staring.

"Not yet," he said calmly.

Aberforth continued to stare until Ariana pulled at his shirt. "Abe, please."

"What does she want?" Albus asked, standing up.

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "She found a mouse in the garden this morning. She keeps wanting to go back to look for it."

"You can't have a mouse, Ariana," Albus said gently, coming forward.

"Why?" she asked, frowning. Harry watched her. She looked vastly different than she had when she was in one of her magical outbursts. Here, she looked much younger than fourteen and seemed very sweet. She looked exactly like the portrait in The Hog's Head, even down to the dress she was wearing.

"It could be ill. You don't want that, do you?"

She shook her head slowly, then hid halfway between the door frame, with one eye peering at Albus.

He tried to usher them inside, and once he managed that, he said, "Harry, do you want to come in?"

Harry hesitated, but stood anyway. He followed Albus into their living room, then up the stairs.

Aberforth and Ariana were already sitting across from each other on his bed, playing with Chocolate Frog cards. Ariana laughed at one of them and showed Aberforth.

Albus sat down on the bed opposite Aberforth's and gestured to Harry to sit at the desk chair. He watched the two play with the cards for a moment.

"Potter," Aberforth said, glancing up at him. "Tell me. Does he-" he pointed at Albus off-handedly, "Get his very own Chocolate Frog card?"

Harry smiled, glancing at Albus, who turned a light pink and looked toward his bookshelf at the foot of his bed.

"Yeah, he does," Harry said. "His card was the very first card I'd ever gotten."

Albus's eyebrows narrowed. "You remember your first card?"

"I was raised by my Muggle aunt and uncle. So, yeah."

He still looked skeptical. "You're pulling my leg. About the card, I mean. You can't have gotten me for your very first card."

Harry shook his head. "No. I'm serious."

Then, seeming to conclude that Harry wasn't lying, he smirked. "See, Abe? I do become worthy enough for a card."

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "What does his card say? 'Current Minister of Magic, Albus Dumbledore is considered by many to be the most dim-witted Wizard of all time ever elected into office. His hobbies include irritating his brother and humming at the most inopportune times'?"

"Not exactly," Harry said.

"I resent that," Albus said. He paused for a moment, though, looking up at the ceiling. "But, really, what does it say?"

"Can't tell you."

He sighed, then reached across the short gap in between their beds to grab a stack of the cards from Aberforth to look through. "Harry, will you meet Gellert?"

Harry held in a groan. Why was he insisting? But, eventually, he nodded. The worst that could happen would that they wouldn't get along. That wouldn't be a huge impossibility, anyway.

"Oh, God," Aberforth said gruffly.

"Shush," Albus said.

* * *

After Harry left that night and Aberforth had already fallen asleep, Albus lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling.

Albus felt glad Harry wasn't angry with him. All his worrying had been for nothing.

Though, he did wonder vaguely if it was grief that caused him to want so much company. He didn't want to be left alone, or else he felt like he'd go mad. He craved all the time to be around someone, to talk to someone.

Even now, he felt antsy. Though he could hear Aberforth's snores, he still felt an urge to talk.

During the nights, he began thinking too much of his mother. He could see her laughing and she her reading to him and see her talking to his father. He missed her, he honestly did. Aberforth might not think he did, but he wanted her back. Who wouldn't want their mothers?

He rolled onto his side and stared at the stack of books he'd been looking through just before bed. He wanted to read more, but he couldn't without waking Aberforth.

Slowly, he rolled out of bed, picked up the books and parchment, and went down in the kitchen.

He lit his wand so he could see what he was writing.

'Dear Gellert,' he wrote. "I believe it is only fair to assume that Muggles-"

He kept writing. It must have taken him an hour before he sent it off with Fawkes to give to Gellert. He stood in front of the open window for a long time, staring into the glass, which he could see his reflection.

His hair had fallen over his face, so he pushed it back behind his shoulder and studied the rest of his face. He hadn't gotten a good look at himself for days. His eyes seemed less solemn than they had a number of days before, after his mother died. He didn't think he looked as happy has he had before, when he had finished Hogwarts, but that could only be expected after everything that happened since.

When Fawkes swooped back in through the window, he had a note tied to his leg. He took it, his heart beating fast, to see what Gellert had written.

Smiling after he read it, he went back to the table to write in respond to his plans about the Greater Good. Oh, he was so excited about this! He couldn't help but write an overly long draft and send it off with Fawkes again.

It was only when Ariana woke up screaming that Albus moved from the kitchen. He stood at her door, watching Aberforth calm her, wishing he could do something to help. Aberforth wouldn't let him near her, though.

But, he knew deeply that he didn't know how to calm her. Somehow, Aberforth was much more nurturing than he was.

If only Albus could help her. If only she didn't have to hid because of her condition.

His eyes widened just as Aberforth lulled her back to sleep. He pushed passed Albus, but Albus couldn't move.

What if Gellert and he could help her? What if the Greater Good could help bring her out of hiding. She was magical, wasn't she? She didn't have to hide…

In sudden inspiration, he practically ran downstairs to write yet another to Gellert.

"As our research of the Greater Good suggests," he wrote fast, his handwriting more of a scrawl than his normal script. "The benefit of Wizardkind to dominate over said Muggles would raise us to higher platform than ever before. I must say my sister, who suffered a terrible accident years ago by the hands of Muggles, would also benefit from this. When those two Muggle boys attacked her, my father was furious and thrown into Azkaban. If the Muggles had known about magic, none of that would have happened. We would have been dominant over them, and therefore, they're pleasure of hurting a girl with abilities more significant than their non-magical abilities would never have been questioned.

"Her pain would have never been realized and she would have never had to go into hiding because she displayed a bit of magic. I should say this is why we should not be oppressed. We have the higher power, one that should only be understood by Muggles. We need not be questioned and feared because our 'abnormalities' are strange to them. They should know we have a power they do not know of."

He knew Aberforth would be extremely angry with him, but his thoughts were much too good to pass up.

* * *

The next morning, Albus awoke at the table, having fallen asleep there. He wondered for a moment what had woken him, but he then heard another knock on the front door.

He stood, stretched, and then went to answer it.

And there was Harry, standing there nervously, and looking over Albus's shoulder as if expecting to see Gellert already there.

"He's not here yet," Albus said, pushing his hair over his shoulder again. "Why don't you come in?"

"Er, okay," Harry said.

Harry watched Albus as he stacked the letters from the night before, and one Albus gestured he should sit, he did.

"Been up late?" Harry asked him as he sat down as well.

Albus hesitated slightly, looking toward the ceiling. "Well, yes. I was corresponding with Gellert."

"Right," Harry said.

Albus studied Harry for a moment, trying to read his facial expression. He seemed rather neutral and seemed to be looking toward the window.

Albus wondered how much Harry knew about Gellert, but for some reason, when he opened his mouth to speak, not a single sound came out. Maybe he knew exactly what Harry would say, but he just didn't want to know the truth. He didn't want to admit anything to himself.

Albus liked Gellert. He was as intelligent as him, with brilliant ideas, but at the same time, something in his mischievous smile threw him off. He trusted Gellert, but everytime he said something to him, he had a nervous feeling, like he was scared that Gellert would berate him and think him dumb.

"I think-" Harry said, finally looking toward Albus.

But Harry was cut off because the front door opened. Albus leaned on two legs of his chair to look around the kitchen door. And there was Gellert, walking toward the kitchen.

"Albus, I-"

He stopped abruptly, seeing Harry opposite Albus.

He stared, but it didn't take long for a smirk to reach his face. "Oh. Hello. I know you. You're the Defense Against the Dark Art's assistant."

Harry nodded. "Er, nice to meet you," Harry said apprehensively. "I'm Harry."

"Gellert," he said, holding his hand out for Harry to shake. Harry took it, but Albus could sense he would have rather not.

Gellert took a seat down next to Albus and stared at Harry. Albus looked toward the ceiling again, waiting for one of them to talk.

"Is it true you were expelled from Durmstrang?" Harry asked.

Albus jerked his head down to look between them. "Expelled?" Albus asked, shocked. "You sad you left!"

Gellert remained just as neutral as Harry had seemed earlier. "Expelled is a strong word…" he said calmly, though Albus could hear a slight edge in his voice. "I didn't need school. I left willingly. They didn't kick me out against my will."

"But they still… expelled you?" Albus asked. "Why?"

Gellert rolled his eyes and waved it off like it was nothing. "You know those things I was telling you? How people didn't like me much because I liked to study magic they didn't much like… Well, of course, I was met with resistance. There was a small accident and, honestly, it doesn't matter much."

Albus did remember him telling him about his time at Durmstrang, how he liked to practice spells- though, when Albus thought about it, he'd never told him the spells he had been experimenting with- and sometimes they didn't go as well as planned. He'd blasted a hole in the wall of a classroom once and apparently once got in a duel that caused on student to be sent to the school nurse.

He always assured Albus that they were small incidents.

But one that caused explosion?

Albus looked toward Harry, but with his arms crossed, so Albus couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Why didn't you just say you were expelled?" Albus asked.

He shrugged. He didn't answer for a few seconds. "Because you've already graduated. I didn't want you to see me as lesser for being expelled."

"Oh," Albus said, frowning slightly. "I would never think like that. Harry, you never finished school, did you?"

"No," Harry said, clearly uncomfortable.

"Were you expelled? Oh, no, you said you were homeschooled."

"I never got through my testing," Harry said. Albus knew he was lying, but he didn't say anything else about that.

For a while, all three of them sat in silence.

This wasn't going well at all. Albus didn't know what to say. What could they talk to Harry about, anyway? What could both his friends relate to?

Eventually, Harry stood up, saying, "I have to go back to work. Nice to meet you again, Gellert."

Then he disapparated right in the middle of the kitchen.

"Interesting fellow," Gellert said. "He had more to say on the train."

Albus sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. Why had even suggested putting them through that?

Gellert saved his shame, though. He pulled out the letters Albus sent.

And together, that morning, they went through them.

* * *

_A/N: I just took a test a couple days ago in my Ethics class, one that dealt with Utilitarianism. I was studying with my Art History friend for the test (studying with, as in, she was basically reteaching me the material)… the only reason why I suddenly understood it was because I applied it to Dumbledore and Grindelwald. I mean, I'm still like Uh… with it. My strong point is definitely not complex ethical theories. But it was still fun to be able to actually apply Harry Potter to classwork!_

_Harry and Gellert will meet again, I promise, and they will have more to say to each other!_

_I also changed my mind with the wand. I couldn't stand the mistake I'd made earlier with it. It was stressing me out too much. I should probably plan better. Oh well._

_Thanks again for the reviews and favorites and everything! You're all being so kind._


	27. 27: Accusations

**Chapter 27: Accusations**

* * *

Harry stood outside Bathilda's house, staring at the ground just a couple hours after Albus introduced him to Gellert. He was sure he'd never had a meeting so awkward before, not even when he saw his aunt again after he'd seen Snape's memories. Harry didn't know if he ever had a real conversation with her before that day, and that realization had been one of the reasons why his meeting with her had been awkward. The other reason was the fact that she tried to mask her feelings throughout the whole time.

Harry sat down by a tree in Bathilda's yard. He made sure his cloak was covering him completely before he relaxed and watched Dumbledore's house, waiting for Gellert to come out again so he could talk to him.

But, he found his thoughts wander.

He'd had to talk to her. Just a few days after Voldemort was defeated and he'd gotten the time of Snape's funeral, he'd had an impulse to talk to her. She was the only person alive who had known about his mother's friendship with Snape.

He had carefully knocked on the door after he'd apparated into the same alley way the Dementor's had attacked him in before fifth year and made his way over to 4 Privet Drive.

The yard looked the same as before. The flowers were flourishing well and he could see that Vernon's car wasn't in the driveway. Harry only vaguely realized it was the middle of the week.

She opened the door. At first, her face was friendly, ready to welcome whoever had knocked, but immediately, upon seeing her nephew, he features turned sour.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I, er, wanted to talk for a moment. If that's okay?"

She studied him for a moment, her blue yes completely different from her sister's. Finally, she opened the door wide and let him enter.

"Voldemort's dead," he announced as soon as she closed the door. He glanced around, noticing boxes lining the staircase. Apparently they were moving back in.

"Yes," she said coldly. "That man, Dedalus, told us. He said we could move back in."

She moved passed him, dodging a box near the cupboard under the stairs and entering the kitchen where she'd obviously just been scrubbing the floors and counters of dust after a year of being away from her house.

"You're not asking to stay here, are you?" Petunia went on.

"No," Harry said, leaning against the doorframe as she picked up the mop again. "Dumbledore said I didn't have to anymore."

She glanced up, but said nothing.

"Why didn't you tell me you had been talking to Dumbledore?"

She blinked, panic rushing over her face in an instant. "I- I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

Harry pushed his glasses up. "Yes, you do. You've had letters from him since you were 13."

She stiffened, her face shocked. "How do you know that, boy?" she asked, turning her nose up at him.

Harry swallowed and crossed the kitchen toward the backdoor. He stared outside for a moment, but as soon as he caught sight of the bushes outside, he remembered first seeing Dobby there so long ago. He wrenched his eyes away. "Did you know Severus Snape died?"

She remained stiff, but her eyes widened. "I don't-"

"I know you know Snape, Aunt Petunia."

She looked shocked, her eyes shifting back and forth as if trying to figure out what to say. Finally, she stood up straight and glared at Harry. "Get out if all you're going to do is accuse me of ridiculous things!"

She pointed toward the door, but Harry kept his ground. "Petunia, you said a couple years ago that an 'awful boy' had mentioned the Dementors to you. I-I thought it was my dad, but it was Snape, wasn't it?"

She slouched slightly and scrubbed the floors heavily, apparently taking her emotions out on the floor. "Wretched boy," she said, huffing. "Never liked him-" she paused, though, glancing at Harry. Her voice instantly went softer. "How did you know him?"

"He taught at Hogwarts," Harry said, looking down at the floor. "I had him for Potions for five years before he got the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. This year he was Headmaster."

"Headmaster?" Petunia spat. "Him? Because Dumbledore… died?"

Harry nodded sullenly.

"I can't imagine him being Headmaster or a teacher," Petunia said coldly, mopping the floors even more harshly than before. "Was he any good?"

"I hated him until a few days ago."

Petunia stared at Harry for a long time, as if expecting him to say more, but when he didn't, she started with her scrubbing again.

"When did he… die?" she asked, her voice going higher on the last word.

"The same night Voldemort died," Harry said, looking down at his trainers. "Voldemort's snake killed him."

Petunia swallowed, a lump growing in her thin throat. Then, she shivered. "Is that what you came to tell me? That's he's dead?"

Harry shook his head. "I just… I learned some thing about him and-and Dumbledore."

She huffed. "And what's that?"

"I thought for a long time that the only reason why he hated me was because my dad bullied him in school," Harry said. "But that wasn't it at all. Dumbledore would never tell me why he trusted Snape, but I found out. He loved my mom so much that he actually turned sides. He was a follower of Voldemort before he found out Voldemort was after my parents. When he realized he was after us, he begged Voldemort to spare my mom, but Voldemort went back on his promise and killed her. The reason why I'm alive is because of Snape."

Petunia stared at him for a long time, then she turned away, placing the mop against the counter and grabbing her sponge to wipe down the counters. "What is your point, boy? Why are you telling me this?"

Harry sighed. Was he really not getting through to her? "I just… I just wanted you to know that he wasn't all that bad. He nearly saved my mom. Your sister would have been alive because of him if Voldemort wouldn't have gone against his word."

Petunia sniffed and scrubbed the counters harder.

"Snape's being buried at Hogwarts today," Harry said after too many minutes had gone by and she hadn't said anything. "I can show you around Hogwarts. I know you've always wanted to go."

She jerked her head up. Tears were slipping down her face. Harry wasn't sure for what reason, but he wondered if it was because of the talk of her sister.

"I don't think-" Petunia began coldly, wiping her face with tissue she'd grabbed from the box on the counter.

"Petunia, please. I'm offering to show you the place where your sister spent seven years. I know about that letter you sent Dumbledore when you were 13. You wanted to go and now I'm giving you a chance to go see it."

Petunia seemed to need to think about that for a few minutes. When she shook her head, he nodded slowly and said, "Okay. Well, I'm going now. I hope-"

"No, wait!" she said, pulling her gloves off and looking down at her clothes. "Let me change. I have a black dress somewhere."

Once she'd come back downstairs, he did a side-long apparation with her to Hogsmeade. She looked around at everything as they walked up the lane toward the castle. Once they got on the grounds, she stared up at the castle, her eyes wide.

"Do you see it?" Harry asked. "My friend told me Muggles only see a ruin."

She shook her head. "No. It's-It's beautiful."

"They're dong construction around here," Harry said, pointing to two people he'd never seen before magic up a rafter that had fallen from a tower. "The battle took place here, but it's safe, I promise."

As they walked up the front steps of the castle, Harry heard his name being called out. He turned, looking for the source, and saw Ginny running up to him from the direction of Hagrid's hut.

"Harry!" she called out again as she ran up the stairs and then smacked right into him, hugging him tightly. "Where were you? You just disappeared!"

"I was-" he began.

"Never do that again!" she yelled, glaring at him in a way that reminded him too much of Mrs. Weasley. "We were all worried sick."

"Ginny," he said, trying to calm her. "I'm fine. I just went to talk to my aunt." Then, he pointed to where she was standing, a few feet away with an appalled look on her face.

"Your aunt?" she asked, staring at her. "You brought her here?" She seemed stunned.

Harry shrugged. "Snape's funeral's today, isn't it? She knew him."

"Oh, yeah," Gnny said softly, looking toward her. "Well, hi, I'm Ginny."

Petunia didn't seem to know how to react, but she held out her hand, anyway, a slightly taken aback look on her face. "Petunia Dursley."

"She's my girlfriend," Harry said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh," Petunia said in surprise, looking between them. She seemed to hold her gaze on Ginny, longer, though. Harry wondered what she was thinking about.

Ginny smiled kindly. "It's nice to meet you, Petunia. Come on, Harry, my brothers and Hermione and are in the Great Hall trying to map out a search party for you."

Once Hermione and Ron nearly killed Harry after he'd disappeared, they met Petunia. Harry felt slightly awkward as they all introduced themselves. But after a while, he led her away and showed her around the castle. She seemed awed by the moving staircases and the pictures that talked to her. When they got to the Gryffindor Common Room, she seemed to stare blankly at it.

"It's even better than I imagined," Petunia said in a small way.

Harry smiled. "It's amazing, isn't it?"

She nodded dumbly. "I wish- Nevermind."

Harry didn't ask.

After the tour, they went down to the where the Hogwarts graveyard was. Dumbledore's grave was the furthest from everyone else's. Harry hadn't even known about the graveyard, probably because it was set apart from the castle, near the lake and Forest.

The funeral was small. Petunia sat there beside Harry dumbly, watching silently, though she gave a little screech when Snape's body was magicked into the grave.

Harry felt sad after he'd taken Petunia back to Privet Drive. He wondered why she was so guarded. She didn't want to speak of her sister at all.

Harry became aware of where he was when a door closed. He looked up toward the Dumbledore's house again and saw Grindelwald leave.

Harry smiled and stood, pulling the cloak off. Then he watched Grindelwald walk the road before he looked up.

He spotted Harry and immediately smirked. "Well, hello, Harry Potter. What are you doing here?"

"To see you," Harry said.

Somehow, his smirk got even wider and he nodded. "Well, why don't you come in and we can talk over tea."

Harry nearly refused, but after deliberating in his head, he nodded and followed him inside.

Bathilda Bagshot was sitting in the living room, a stack of paper's in her hands.

"How's the book coming, Auntie?" Grindelwald asked.

"Nearly done!" she said happily. "I have one chapter left."

"What's that about?" he asked, picking up one section held together by a magical binder. He flipped through it.

"Goblin Rebellions," she said. "I talked to Professor Binns just a month ago. He can go on and on about that."

She looked up at Grindelwald and spotted Harry standing behind him. "Harry, dear! I had no idea you'd met Gellert or that you were even here."

"I met him officially today," Harry said.

"Excellent," she said. "Would you like tea and biscuits?"

She stood before Harry even answered and rushed off to the kitchen. Grindelwald sat down in a chair opposite her and slouched, reading through one of the chapters.

"Hogwarts," he muttered, rolling his eyes, but he said nothing else as he threw the paper back onto the stack.

He looked toward Harry, then. "Well, sit down. Might as well."

Harry took a seat in another chair near Grindelwald's.

"I don't see why Albus wanted us to meet," Grindelwald said, sneering slightly. "I didn't even know he was in contact with you. Why are you around here?"

"Just visiting," Harry said.

"The Potters or Albus?"

"Both," Harry said.

"Hm," he said, growing silent. He stared down at the fireplace where a small fire was boiling a cauldron. "What were you playing at, telling him about me being expelled? How did you know I was expelled, anyway?"

"I hear things," Harry said, shrugging. "Why didn't you tell him? You do know he considers you a friend, right?"

"Of course I know," Grindelwald said. "I just didn't think it mattered, you know? School is school. Who cares if I graduate? Actually, why do you care what I do? You haven't finished school, either."

"How'd you know that?" Harry asked, surprised.

"You just told me."

Harry stared, but then shook his head. "You know how Albus feels about school. He thinks education is important."

"Yeah, I know," he said, waving that off with his hand just as Mrs. Bagshot came back into the living room with a tray. Grindelwald reached for a cup and the sugar. "Thank you, Auntie."

"You're welcome," she said, sitting back in her chair. Harry took a cup, too, and took the sugar, too.

"Thanks, Mrs. Bagshot."

She nodded, picking up her manuscript again.

Grindelwald and Harry were silent for a while. Harry, starting to feel uncomfortable with the staring he was doing to him, nearly left. He was just wasting his time.

"Why do you care about Albus?" Grindelwald asked, placing his cup down on the tray. "He was only your student last year."

"He has a heart," Harry said, looking up at Bathilda. He could remember her telling him that when they'd met a couple months before. "I think he's more interesting than you give him credit for."

Grindelwald laughed lightly. "I think he's brilliant. He's interesting enough. He has some fantastic ideas. Have you read his Transfiguration Today article on Trans-Species Transfiguration? It was excellent."

"That one was written years ago," Bathilda said. "It's one of the reasons why I began talking to them. I know I mentioned to you that I'd seen them around, but I knew about Albus's articles."

"He's been writing for that long?" Harry asked, surprised.

She nodded and she nearly opened her mouth again, but suddenly Grindelwald stood up and gestured for Harry to follow him. Confused, Harry was led upstairs to a small bedroom. He looked around, noticing all the parchment stacked around the room. He had obviously been doing just as much research as Albus.

"Look," Grindelwald said. Harry jerked his head up at him when he heard the door closed. He stared down at him. "I know what you're up to. You're so easy to read it's pathetic."

Harry stared, surprised at the sudden turn of Grindelwald's mood. When had he made him angry? He glared down at Harry, his blue eyes dark. Harry stepped back.

"What are you really here for, huh?" he asked, stepping closer. "You think you can stop me?"

"Stop you from what?" Harry asked.

"Do you think I'm dumb, Potter?" he asked. "I know more Dark magic than you can even think about. And somehow you know that. I can see it when I look at you."

He paused for a moment, surveying him. Harry tried not to look into his eyes. "You know me. I have no idea how since I've never seen you in my life until a few weeks ago. Yet, there's something about you…."

Grindelwald wasn't nearly as scary as Voldemort, nor did he seem as terrible as Voldemort had when he was Tom Riddle in the orphanage. But, the look in his eyes and the way he was trying to corner Harry made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his heart pound.

"Look, I don't give a damn what you think, Potter," he said in barely above a whisper. "I know you think something's wrong with me, that I'm manipulating him in some way, but he has the free will to do whatever he likes. Got that?"

Harry blinked, then he narrowed his eyes. "You are, though. You're trying to manipulate him."

"Keep out of it," Grindelwald said, poking his chest with his finger. "You don't know me like you think you do. Nor do you know him. I can see that you used to think of him as some type of saint, but your opinion of him got skewed in some way. I don't know how, but I know you're now scared of him, scared that he'll do something that'll hurt people."

He smirked. "Stay the hell out of it, Potter. You can't control him."

"And you think you can?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing.

He smiled. "Me? I've got him wrapped around my finger," he said softly, drawing a circle in the air with his index finger.

"How can you be so sure?" Harry asked, looking him up and down. "He's smarter than you."

"But he's on the side of the good," he said, laughing. "He doesn't know how to perform a speck of Dark magic. He knows of it, of course. But who are you to think he doesn't want to learn?"

"I never said that," Harry said, his heart pounding too fast.

"Didn't you?" Grindelwald asked. Harry felt his back press against the back of the door. "I've asked him, indirectly of course, if he has. He said he wouldn't touch it. What would you say if I could get him to?"

"He wouldn't," Harry said, glaring at him. "He has a better heart than you."

"Heart has nothing to do with it," Grindelwald said, placing his hands on the wall and the door on each side of Harry. "Everything is power. Don't you get that?"

"He doesn't believe that."

"He doesn't?" he said, laughing again. "I'm sure."

He paused for a moment, looking straight into Harry's eyes. Harry could feel him trying to probe into his mind, but Harry pushed him away.

He stepped back, chuckling some. "Hm. Has he tried that on you? He must've. He's done it on me before." He smirked again.

Harry glared at him, and refused to look into his eyes after that.

"What do you want, Grindelwald?" Harry asked.

"Just stay out of the way," he said, waving his hand and turning around. He sat down on the bed in the corner and smirked at him. "You're worse than his brother. At least you seem a little intelligent. But, honestly, Potter, this has got nothing to do with you. You can tell him whatever you'd like. He wouldn't believe what you say about anything we just talked about, anyway. I could just lie."

He picked up a quill and a sheet of parchment. "Now, get out. I have theories I need to write."

Harry stepped toward the door and looked back at Grindelwald. He thought for a moment about the visions he'd seen of Voldemort questioning him in his cell in Azkaban, how he'd died there after fifty years of being trapped.

"I think I do know more Dark magic than you think," Harry said. "After all, I did just teach half a year of Defense and I'm actually an Auror."

"You're not an Auror," Grindelwald said. "I know the names of all the Aurors. The only Potter in there is Cadmus Potter and I know you're not disguised as him. Get out and don't come near this house again."

"I never said I was an Auror currently," Harry said. "Think about that."

Then, Harry opened the door and walked out.

As he passed by the Dumbledore's, he could see Albus sitting out by the tree again, writing. Aberforth was near the ground, studying a bug that was walking across the sidewalk.

Albus had no idea, did he?

Harry sighed and walked further down the road until he was safely out of anyone's range. Then, he apparated out of Godric's Hollow for real this time.

* * *

_A/N: I know that whole Aunt Petunia thing never happened in canon, but it's for contrast toward Gellert and Harry's scene in this chapter._

_Sigh. Writing this was a good break from all the schoolwork I have to do… School is tough right now. Can it just go away? I was also reading over some of this story before I wrote this chapter… I think I need to read it again. I forgot I'd written some things. Anyway, thanks for the reviews and favorites and alerts and everything! :)_


	28. 28: Warnings and Misleadings

**Chapter 28: Warnings and Misleadings**

* * *

For the next several weeks, Harry kept a close eye on Albus and Grindelwald. He trailed them constantly, watching them from afar as they visited the graveyard and talked in their front yards. Frequently, he saw Albus glancing toward the spot where Harry was.

He still had no idea how Albus knew he was there, but when they got together in the evening every few days, Albus never mentioned a thing about noticing Harry.

So, Harry just didn't mention it.

One endeavor Harry wanted to go about doing was talking to Atticus. He saw him in town frequently, sitting on the benches around the square. He seemed to be doing homework, since he always had a pencil and pieces of parchment out.

Albus always tried to convince him not to talk to Atticus, but the more Harry saw him around, the more of an urge he had. "His father's an Auror, Harry," Albus said.

"I know, Albus!" Harry said after about the fifth time.

"I'm only saying that it would dangerous."

But Harry had to at some point.

He kept putting it off until one day, toward the end of July, just a couple days before his birthday.

Atticus was walking idly passed the Bagshot's house. Harry, who was watching Grindelwald practice spells in the sideyard, far from most people's range of sight, stopped and looked toward Atticus passing by with his head down. He seemed to be sorting through the Famous Witches and Wizards cards.

When Harry looked back up at Grindelwald, he was walking toward the short stone wall lining the Bagshot house.

Harry shot up from where he was sitting in the trees and made his way quickly over there, walking far enough behind them where he could reveal himself if he had to.

"Hey, kid," he said, stepping up onto the wall and walking it, his hands out, even if he had perfect balance.

Atticus looked up, confused. "Hello," he muttered, looking back down at his cards.

"You're a Potter, aren't you?" he asked, jumping off the wall and sitting down on it.

"Yes, what's it to you?" Atticus asked coolly. Harry could tell that Atticus was nervous, though. His hands were shaking.

Grindelwald shrugged and held out his hand. "I'm Gellert. I'm Bathilda Bagshot's nephew."

Atticus stared at his hand for a moment, then shook it quickly before pulling his hand away. "My dad's mentioned you before."

"Yeah?" Gellert asked, looking very interested. "What did he say?"

"Nothing," Atticus said with a shrug. "He just knows about all the Magical people in the village."

"Hm," Gellert said, looking down the street. "What's your name?"

"Atticus," he said.

"What kind of cards do you have there, Atticus?" he asked.

"Just the Chocolate Frog cards," he said.

"I have some," Grindelwald said. "You want them? I'm too old for them."

"No, thank you, I-"

"I'll go get them. Wait here."

Gellert ran off into the house and Atticus stood there, staring at Grindelwald as he ran off into the house. He seemed very confused, but he still waited for Gellert.

When he came back, Gellert had a whole box.

He sat down on the wall again and opened it up. Harry stepped closer to try to see what was in the box. It had stacks of cards, but also seemed usually large on the inside. He must have had more items in there than the cards. He conjured up a bag and piled the cards in.

"Enjoy," Grindelwald said, handing him the bag.

Atticus took it wearily. "Thank you."

When Atticus continued down the street, glancing back at Grindelwald, Harry nearly ripped his cloak off and ran after Atticus to rip the bag of cards from his hand.

Grindelwald jumped up. There was no smile on his face. He just went back into the house. After Atticus disappeared into his yard a few houses down, Harry took off his cloak and went up to Bagshot's house and knocked.

Bathilda opened the door. "Oh, hello, Harry. I haven't seen you in a few days."

"May I see Gellert?" he asked.

She nodded. "Come in. Would you like tea? I'd love to talk to you-"

But Harry ran past her, saying, "No, but thank you. Maybe another time!"

The door was open when he got there and he went straight in. Grindelwald was sitting on the floor, shifting through his papers, but looked up as Harry entered.

"Hm," he said, smirking. "I was wondering if you were out there with us."

"What did you just give Atticus?" he demanded.

"Cards," Grindelwald said, shrugging. "Is there a law against that, Mr. Auror?"

"No, but-"

"Then I don't see what the problem is. I know what you're thinking," he said smugly, looking down at his parchment and writing without looking down. "You think I did something to them. You don't trust me, right? Look, I just gave him cards. I don't need them. I don't want them. I'm German, so we don't have those there. They were no use to me."

He paused and looked up from the sheet. "Get out of my business, Potter. Stop following Albus and me around."

"Or what?"

"I'll hex you into the next century," he said lightly, chuckling slightly.

Harry didn't want to admit that he would actually like that to happen.

Harry stepped closer to him. Gellert looked up at him defiantly, though, as if the height difference of him sitting on the floor and Harry standing still made him feel more powerful than Harry.

"Don't touch Atticus," Harry said. "I'll be damned if you do."

Gellert smirked slightly and looked down at his finger nails. "And why is that?"

"He's a friend," Harry said.

"A friend I've never once seen you talk to?" Grindelwald said, laughing again. "Sounds like an excellent friend. Not to mention the age difference, either…"

"At least I don't manipulate my friends," Harry said.

Grindelwald sent Harry a rude hand gesture and then pointed toward the door. "I don't need friends, Potter. Now get out. I've already told you I don't want you here."

"Don't let Albus hear you say that," he said, stepping back toward the door. "He loves you. You're the only thing he talks about when I see him most evenings."

He smirked again, but dropped it almost immediately. "Out, Potter!"

Harry turned around and left the house without even telling Good-bye to Mrs. Bagshot.

He practically ran to Albus's house. Once he got there, he pounded on the door.

It took several seconds for Albus to open it. He looked down at Harry in surprise. "Something wrong, Harry?" he asked.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said.

He seemed confused but he stepped outside and sat down by the tree in the front yard. Harry sat a little off to the side as usual.

"Look, we need to talk about Grindelwald," Harry said.

Albus blinked, then looked up at the Bagshot house.

"What about him?" he asked, his voice slightly strangled.

"I think he's trying to start something with the Potters," he said.

"Yeah?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

Harry nodded, glancing up at the house as well, and then he told Albus what happened.

Albus nodded along, staying silent. He didn't stop staring at the house, though, and at times Harry wondered if he was even listening.

When Harry finished, Albus glanced at him.

"It doesn't sound odd to me," he said with a small shrug. "I gave my cards to Aberforth."

"But, Albus, seriously-"

Albus shook his head, stood up and took his wand out. He cast a spell at a tin can on the front steps. It changed into a duck and then he changed it back into the tin can. "Hm," he muttered softly.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Nothing," he said. "I wonder if I can change the color of the duck…"

Harry watched him, not understanding. The duck was blue when he transfigured the can again. What was Dumbledore doing?

Then Harry understood…

He was changing the subject. Sighing, Harry leaned against the side of the house and pulled his Snitch out.

He let it fly before catching it. Albus eyed him while he did that and raised his eyebrows when Harry made a catch that was unusually hard.

Harry really shouldn't have been surprised that Dumbledore completely refused to listen to him. When he thought about it, he often ignored Harry's thoughts on people. Though, he guessed those people had been Malfoy and Snape. They hadn't turned out all that bad in the end.

Grindelwald was another story, though.

"Harry, can I ask you something?" Albus asked when the Snitch got away from him and flew into a tree. Harry stepped up on the stonewall and reached for it. When he got it, he frowned at the now frayed wing.

"About what?" he asked, glancing up.

Albus's cheeks turned red as he took a deep breath. "You have a girlfriend back, er, home."

Harry nodded. He wondered more about if he could use Reparo to fix his Snitch than he listened to Albus.

"How did you… know that you liked her like that?"

Harry still studied the wings, too nervous to try to fix it. What if it got worse or couldn't fly again?

Harry saw Albus's long fingered hand come into view. He pulled it out of Harry's hand and tapped the it, the wing fixed instantly.

"Thanks," Harry said as Albus let go of the Snitch again and it flew around Harry's head, glad to see it was fixed. "How did I know I liked Ginny? I don't know. I'm really not good with talking about girls and stuff."

Albus frowned and looked down at his feet as Harry grabbed the Snitch again.

"Why do you want to know, anyway?" Harry asked, sitting back down in the grass.

"No reason," he said. "I was just wondering what it was like for you when you realized you liked her. That's all."

Harry didn't really have to think about it. After all, he spent most of sixth year realizing it. "I don't know exactly," he said. "I think I was jealous, maybe? She was going with Dean. Her brother and I caught them kissing one day and this… thing kept bothering. It felt like something was in my chest, growling. It's mad, but that's how it was."

"Growling?" Albus asked, looking dubious.

"Yeah. Mad, isn't it?" Harry said placing his Snitch back into his Mokeskin pouch.

"Yeah," Albus said softly, glancing back up at the Bagshot house.

Albus sat back down at the tree and pulled at the grass.

"Hold on," Harry said, a thought coming to him. He stared at Albus for a moment, wondering… "Do you like someone?"

Albus glanced at him, then back toward the house. His eyes lingered there for a few long seconds before he reached down to pull his wand out. He shot at the tin can again, but this time it only jumped high.

Harry grinned slightly, finding it funny that Dumbledore of all people would be asking Harry about this. Sure, Harry was friends with girls, but he had no idea how to deal with them.

"Ah," Albus said finally, but he didn't go on.

Harry, for a moment, wondered who it was. "You can tell me if you want. I won't laugh, even if they're ugly."

That got a grin out of Albus, but he tried to hide it immediately.

"It's not important," Albus said.

Harry tried to take his word for it, but he couldn't help but wonder. He wondered if it was that shopkeeper, Sylvia, but he remembered that Albus said she was married.

Albus started humming lightly and Harry decided not to pursue it.

* * *

Later that day, Harry left Albus's house. Instead of going back to the Flamel's, though, he stationed himself outside of the Potter house. He could see Cadmus sitting at a desk in front of the window, writing something.

A few hours passed before all the lighted candles went off in their house. Harry's eyes began to become heavy as he waited, sure that something would happen, just like that time with Kendra Dumbledore.

But when he woke up cold across the road, Atticus was out in the front yard, climbing the tree like always.

Harry sighed in relief and stood up, stiff.

After watching him for a few minutes, he wondered if he should finally reveal himself to him. It didn't seem like anyone else was around, although he did see Grindelwald in his yard, messing with a knife.

What could it hurt?

He pulled the invisibility cloak off and walked up to the metal gate of the house.

"Atticus?" he said.

"What- oof!"

Atticus had fallen off a branch and landed flat on his back in the window of the yard.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, shocked, pushing the gate open. He fell to his knees beside him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Atticus said, smiling. "That was- Mr. Potter! What… What are you doing here?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, relieved he wasn't hurt. "Visiting the Dumbledore's."

"Oh, right," he said, looking down at his feet and rubbing his back as he sat up. "I'm guessing you heard about their Mum?"

Harry nodded sadly. "Yeah."

Atticus looked Harry up and down, a smile growing on his face. "I thought I wouldn't see you again! I thought my dad would catch you or something."

"I've been careful," Harry said. He figured after being on the run from Voldemort for a year that he could easily avoid an Auror, especially since he had been an Auror.

"Albus Dumbledore told me to never tell my dad that we talked, but I told I wouldn't, anyway, since I didn't want him to know you were giving me extra lessons in Defense."

"Is your dad around right now?" Harry asked wearily, looking around as if he would apparate right behind him.

Atticus shook his head. "Neither is my mum. She's working in the Ministry archives today."

"So, you're by yourself?" Harry asked.

He nodded. "I want to go into town and do my homework soon, though."

"That would probably be a good idea," Harry said, glancing around again, toward the Bagshot house. He could see Grindelwald carving something in the tree with the knife. "Do you have your essay for Defense yet?"

He shook his head. "Will you help?"

"Maybe," Harry said hesitantly. "I can't be seen too much around here. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," he said.

"Good," Harry said.

He looked back toward Grindelwald, who was still concentrating on his carving.

"Look," Harry said again, lowering his voice and getting closer to him. "Can you do something for me?"

He nodded instantly, looking as if he'd do anything for Harry. He was a nice kid, really.

"Don't go near Gellert Grindelwald, okay?"

"Why?" Atticus said, though his face went pale too fast for Harry's liking. He looked away nervously.

Harry guessed he was thinking of what happened the day before, but Harry knew he wasn't going to mention it.

"I don't like him," Harry said. "I know he's friends with Albus and related to Bathilda, but that doesn't mean he's okay to be around."

"He's bad? My dad thought so." His skin was so pale now that it looked as if he was going to faint. Harry helped him stand up and led him over to the steps to sit him down.

"Yeah," Harry said, kneeling down in front of him. "Please don't talk to him again, okay? If your dad's around, go straight to him if he starts talking to you again. Promise me, please."

Atticus nodded stiffly. "Okay. I promise."

"Good," Harry said.

Harry stood up again. "I have to go. I have to work. Go into town, okay? Stay there until your parents get home."

He nodded, jumping up immediately. "I'll go now."

"Thanks," Harry said.

Harry turned around and made his way to the gate again. He was nearly about to disapparate, but Atticus called out.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned around.

"Where have you been and why did you have to leave?"

Harry's lips twitched. "I wish I could tell you, but I don't know if you'd believe me."

He seemed confused, but Harry thought of Flamel's workshop and he disappeared from Godric's Hollow. He's talk to Atticus again. He wished he could spend more time with him, but he knew Flamel would concerned about where he'd been all night.

* * *

Albus was writing a letter to Gellert. He knew he'd been doing that a lot lately, much to Aberforth's dismay, but he had so many ideas. He couldn't stop writing.

He also knew Harry disapproved of him being around Gellert so much, which concerned him more than Aberforth's dscomfort.

Sometimes he wondered if this all happened in the future. Was he still friends with Gellert in Harry's time? He hoped so, but he couldn't help but wonder why Harry so hated Gellert.

Though Gellert could be harsh- Albus remembered a time when he shot a rabbit with a spell and it struggled to get free. Albus had pleaded with Gellert. "Let him go! Stop it!"

But Gellert had just rolled his eyes. "Fine." He let the rabbit free and it ran from him, scared.

Albus chose to largely ignore that in Gellert, even though it made him nervous. He didn't understand how Gellert could be so cruel, but he wanted so desperately to like him that he usually went along with Gellert's antics.

Otherwise, Albus thought his ideas outweighed his harsher behaviors.

In fact, just as he was thinking that, there was a tap on the front window. Albus looked up from where he was by the fireplace and saw Gellert waving. Smiling, Albus jumped up.

"Hello," Albus said, letting him in.

Aberforth looked up from the couch and narrowed his eyes. He slid closer to Ariana, as if trying to protect her.

"Good afternoon, Aberforth," Gellert said, smirking. "Hello, Ariana. How are you today?"

Ariana's eyes narrowed slightly and she hide her face in Aberforth's shoulder.

Gellert had been fascinated with Ariana when Albus finally introduced him to her.

"She looks normal," he said, seemingly surprised.

"I am," she said softly, her usual kind smile missing. She stared straight at him, looking the most coherent than she had in a long time.

He smirked at her. "Hm. Cute, aren't you?"

"You just don't want to be around her when she has a tantrum," Albus said casually. "Right, Ariana?"

She smiled then and looked at Aberforth who was staring between Albus and Gellert, looking as if he'd been waiting for Gellert to do something to her.

After a few weeks after they met, though, Gellert never did a thing. Actually, he seemed quite enamored with her, always asking how she was very sweetly and sometimes talking to her like she was normal.

Honestly, Albus liked that. She was rarely introduced to new people. While she didn't seem quite sure what to make of Gellert, she didn't seem to mind him much.

"Let's go on a walk," Gellert said.

Albus nodded. "Don't do anything mad, okay?" he said to Aberforth.

Aberforth just glared at him and leaned in close to Ariana to whisper something in her ear. She giggled and looked up at Albus sweetly.

"Bye, Ariana," Albus said, waving.

"Where are we going?" Albus asked.

"No where in particular," he said.

Albus noticed, though, that when they passed by the Potter house, he stared up at it a little longer than any other house.

Albus nearly asked what he was staring at, especially since Harry had felt concern before, but Gellert said, "Harry Potter is interesting. Why do you think he follows us around?"

Albus shrugged. "You've noticed, too?" he asked casually. He did, however, feel slightly sick at the thought that Gellert knew about that. He had no idea why, either.

He nodded. "He seems very protective of you," Gellert said, huffing. "It's odd. He's like your little fanboy."

Albus shook his head, pulling his arms behind his back and holding his own hands tightly. "There's no reason why he should be protective of me. I only met him last year."

"I think he should be institutionalized," Gellert said. "He's insane. There's something wrong with his head."

Albus wasn't sure what to say to that, so he only hummed.

"Don't send me any owls tonight," Gellert said.

"What, why?" Albus asked, surprised. He always sent Gllert letters at night! It was normal and he'd never said anything about it before.

"I'm going to London tonight," he said.

"Really? Do you, er, need someone to show you around?"

He shook his head. "No. Thank you."

Albus had a burning desire to ask him what exactly he was going to London for, especially in the middle of the night.

He decided against asking, deciding he'd rather not know.

With Gellert, it could have been anything.

* * *

_A/N: Gosh, this chapter was super hard to write. Probably the hardest so far. I don't even understand why it was so hard. But anyway… I'm really regretting not writing more scenes with Atticus in the beginning now. I'm not too good at planning things, but he'll be a part of things, I think._


	29. 29: Birthday Surprises

**Chapter 29: Birthday Surprises**

* * *

When Harry woke up the morning of his nineteenth birthday, he felt oddly empty. He looked around the small room where he'd slept for the last year. He saw no owls with letters from Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. He'd gotten something from the three of them nearly every year since he was twelve.

So, to suddenly not have anything from them was strange.

He got dressed, though, and walked downstairs.

Penelope Flamel was sitting at the table, reading The Daily Prophet. But, when Harry grabbed a piece of toast from a basket, she dropped the paper down.

"Oh, Harry," she said, picking up a package from the table. "Happy Birthday."

Surprised, Harry took the gift from her. "Thank you," he said.

"I know you can't take anything with you when you leave," she said. "I thought you could leave it here and we'll be sure to get it delivered to you in the future."

"Thank you," he said again, upwrapping the package.

To his surprise, it was an album. Blinking, he flipped through it, surprised to see that there were pictures of him with Atticus, Albus, the Flamels, and Merrythought.

"How…?" Harry asked. "I remember having these taken, but…"

"Galatea Merrythought gave those to me," she said, smiling kindly. "I thought you might appreciate having those, especially the ones with Albus. I know you're fond of him."

"Thank you," Harry said again. His face felt oddly hot and the corners of his eyes stung. He blinked and handed the album back to her. "Keep it safe for me, okay?"

"Of course," she said.

She stood up and disappeared into the sitting room.

Harry bit the toast and looked down at the paper. He flipped through it quickly, feeling appreciative that this paper had no mentions of him, Voldemort, or the Death Eaters.

This time, though, there were people he didn't know and situations that were foreign to him with no threats of Dark Wizards.

Harry thought it was a clear day like usual, but then he turned to the front page.

And right there on the front cover, he saw the name Potter in the top headline.

Harry felt his jaw drop at the sight of the Potter house in the moving picture. Cadmus Potter, his wife, and Atticus stood out in the front of it with words above it reading, "Ministry and Potter Home Broken Into: Files Stolen."

Shocked, Harry flattened out the paper and began reading:

"Two events last night shocked Aurors. None, however, were more shocked than Head of Magical Law Enforcement Cadmus Potter. While being called to the Ministry for a break in to the Magical Law Enforcement office where Aurors were investigating an alarm from the archives, Auror Potter rushed to his home around three in the morning after getting a fire call from his wife saying an intruder was in the house.

"The break ins are currently being said by the Aurors to be linked. In both cases, files on the Potter family were stolen. However, Auror Potter says, 'We have no leads.'

"Details are still pending. For now, wards are being tightened at the Ministry and the Aurors are on the case, searching for the stolen objects. No one was harmed."

Penelope came out from the sitting room and stopped at the door. "You saw?"

Harry nodded dumbly, dropping the paper down.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Penelope said. "There are always people trying to bring Cadmus down."

Harry nodded and without wasting a second, he said, "I have to see Albus."

Then, he apparated right into the kitchen of the Dumbledore house.

"Harry!" Albus said, looking up at him in shock.

"What happened?" he asked immediately, rushing to the front door to look out the window. He couldn't see anything, though.

"I'm not sure," Albus said sadly, stepping up next to him and looking out the window, as well. "I was just with Bathilda. I'm about to go back over there. Atticus is there."

"Where's Grindelwald?" Harry asked, feeling panic at the possibility that Atticus and Grindelwald were trapped in the same house together.

"He told me he was going to London," he said.

"What? Why!"

Albus just shrugged. "He wouldn't say."

Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him to the back door. Together, they made their way to Bathilda's house through the back, just in case there were Aurors out in the front.

Albus knocked the door and entered without waiting for a reply. At the kitchen table sat Atticus and Bathilda. They both looked up.

"Hello, boys," she said, pointing to the two empty seats. "I'm sure you heard, Harry?"

He nodded as he sat down next to Albus. "What exactly was stolen?"

Atticus shook his head. "I have no idea. I didn't even know we had files in the house. Whoever broke in knew where it was. I wouldn't have guessed to look where they were."

"It was Grindelwald," Harry said, crossing his arms.

"Harry!" Bathilda and Albus said at the same time.

Of course they wouldn't believe him. Albus never did, but he should have realized with Bathilda. She wouldn't want to believe her nephew did anything like that.

In the scheme of things, Harry wondered if the things he'd done in the past were worse than the break in Gellert had just done. After all, he had broken into the Ministry twice before and even broke into Gringotts. Those were for good reason, though, during a time of resistance.

Gellert didn't seem to have any reason for stealing the Potters' files. For all he knew, Grindelwald just wanted to see if he could do.

"Why else would he suddenly become interested in Atticus two days ago and then go to London the same night two break ins happen? And where is he, anyway?"

"He's with a friend of mine!" Bathilda said, shocked at the accusations.

"Have you checked on him?" Harry asked.

"No, but-"

A knock sounded. Everyone looked up. Bathilda was the first to rise and she went to the door. Albus glared at Harry, looking as if he wanted to say something to him about the accusations, but then the door opened and he heard a voice.

"I'm just checking on how Atticus is doing," said Cadmus.

Harry froze. He looked toward the back door, but he knew that door could be seen from the front.

"He's doing well," Bathilda said. "Is he allowed to come home now or would you like me to keep him a little longer? I've been enjoying his company."

"Well, if you don't mind," Cadmus said. "Actually, I was just 'round at the Dumbledore's. Albus's brother said he was here. I'd like to ask him a few things."

"He's in the kitchen. Come in."

Harry's eyes widened and he jumped up.

"Do you have your cloak?" Albus asked.

He shook his head frantically.

But just as Cadmus walked in, a sense of water falling over him engulfed him and he stood there stock still, looking down at his hands. They'd disappeared. Albus had apparently put a disillusionment charm over him, but this one was different than normal. He seemed completely invisible!

Harry stepped out of the way of Cadmus as he passed Atticus, ruffling his hair. "Hello, doing well?"

He nodded as Cadmus sat down next to Albus. "Hello, Dumbledore."

"Sir," Albus said kindly. His eyes had no twinkle in them at all.

"Dumbledore," he said, leaning forward. "I know you'd rather not talk about this, but I need you to tell me everything you know about Merrythought's assistant, the one that called himself Harry Potter."

Albus actually smiled rather than looking panicking. "What do you mean, sir?"

Cadmus sighed, looking as if he felt he had no time for that. "Please just tell me what you know. Don't try to sneak around it."

Albus only smiled wider. "Look, I've told you all I know of him."

"Which wasn't much," Cadmus said.

"Well," Albus said, shrugging. "There wasn't much to say. He was nice to the students. He knew Defense quite well. But I have no idea where he is right now."

"Have you talked to him since he left Hogwarts?" Cadmus asked.

"Have you had any leads on him since November?"

"Well, no-"

"Then I don't understand why you're suddenly asking about him. For all I know, he could be halfway across the world."

Cadmus seemed frustrated. He ran a hand through his untidy hair and said, "I'm only asking because I can't figure out who else would want to steal files on my family if it wasn't someone who's claimed to be a Potter."

Albus shook his head and his eyes twinkled. "Well, I haven't got any answers for you. Honestly, in my humble schoolboy opinion, if you have had zero leads for over half a year, there's nothing to go on. But of course, I'm only three days away from eighteen with no such position to speak of besides homemaker, certain awards, and some old Wizengamot posts I've since vacated. Why should anyone listen to me?"

Cadmus stared. He was beginning to look exasperated, which Harry thought wouldn't be a good thing. "So, do you think he did it or not?"

Albus smirked in a way too similar to Gellert's for comfort. "Like I said, why should anyone listen to me? I have no idea, sir."

Cadmus let out an angry breath and stood up. "Well, thank you, Dumbledore. Atticus, stay here. I'll come get you soon."

He disappeared out of the kitchen, and then once the front door slammed shut, the same feeling of water rushing came over Harry. He looked down at his hands and they were there again.

"Well, happy birthday, Harry," Albus said, his smiled dropping. "Thought I might as well take suspicion off of you for the day."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the chair Cadmus just vacated.

"It's your birthday?" Bathilda asked. "I had no idea! Stay here, I'll make you breakfast."

"Thank you, but you don't have to," Harry said.

She shook her head. "Please. I'd love to."

There was a pause while Bathilda started cooking. Albus took his deluminator out of his pocket and began messing with it. Harry hadn't seen it for a while, even though Albus had told him Flamel had finally approved of it after a year of working on it.

"Gellert didn't do it," Albus said, his eyes narrowing as he clicked the device. A candle light sped into it. "It was just a coincidence."

"You don't know that," Harry said. "You always ignore everything he-"

"Harry," Albus said with a sigh. "I think I'd know my best friend."

Harry's eyes widened and he stared at Albus, shocked. "He's not your best friend! Elphias is!"

Albus's eyes flashed. "You don't know-" he yelled.

"Boys!" Bathilda screamed. "Stop it right now! There will be no yelling in my kitchen."

Albus glared at Harry and he turned away, crossing his arms. Harry caught Atticus's eyes. He was looking on, his eyes wide and looking as if he wished he'd just gone with his dad when he was there.

"Wait here," Albus said, standing up. He put the deluminator on the table and left through the back door.

Atticus caught Harry's eyes and stared blankly at him. "What's with him?"

Harry shrugged and picked up his deluminator. When he looked at it, it seemed less worn than it did when Ron had it. Harry couldn't wait to tell Ron about how Albus had been making it during his seventh year of Hogwarts.

"What is that?" Atticus asked.

"It just puts out lights," Harry said. "And something else, but I don't know if he's actually done that yet."

Atticus seemed confused, but he didn't pursue it. He set the deluminator back down on the table. He didn't want to look at it anymore.

Truthfully, he knew he was leaving in about three weeks. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to see his friends again and the sight of something that Ron owned later made him feel too homesick.

When Albus came back, he handed Harry a cloth bag. He took it, unsure of what it was.

"That's your birthday present," Albus said. "It's just candy, but you know, I have two siblings to take care of. I wish I could've given you more."

Harry opened up the bag. It just had Muggle candy in it, but Harry appreciated it all the same. "Thank you. You didn't poison this, did you? After I just made you angry?"

Albus shook his head. "Of course not. Although, now that you mention it…"

Harry laughed and pulled out a piece of candy. "Why did I think there wouldn't be sherbet lemons in here?"

His eyes twinkled again.

* * *

Time passed. Harry and Albus wandered back over to the Dumbledore house after Cadmus Potter came back by to get Atticus.

Grindelwald still hadn't shown up. Bathilda hadn't been able to get in touch with him, even though she firecalled the place where he was supposedly staying a few times.

"He can't have. He can't have," Albus kept repeatedly saying.

Harry wanted to say something, but he decided against it.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Albus muttered.

"Tell you what?" Aberforth asked from across the room. Harry didn't know where Ariana was, but she was apparently upstairs taking a nap. Albus told him about Ariana's nightmares and tantrums. Harry, who had had nightmares that repeated themselves in the past, understood.

"Nothing," Albus said.

Just then, an owl flew through the open window. Though Albus reached out for it, the owl didn't seem to want to do to go to him. It landed in front of Aberforth.

"Hello, Hopp," said Aberforth, untying the letter from the owl's leg. "Here, Albus."

He handed it to him and Albus read out the letter announcing that Aberforth had to be at King's Cross on September 1st.

Albus looked over the book list. "I have all these books, but I think we'll have to get you new robes."

Aberforth shook his head. "I'm not going."

"To Diagon Alley? Why not?"

"No, I mean Hogwarts," Aberforth said.

Albus stared at Aberforth. "We've been over this, Aberforth. You're going."

Harry looked up. He hadn't known Aberforth was thinking of not going back to school.

"You can't make me," Aberforth said. "I'm nearly sixteen and I have my O.W.L results. Anyway, your boyfriend or whoever left school after his fifth year. Why can't I?"

"He was expelled, Aberforth," Albus said. "That's completely different. You don't get to choose. You're not 17 and your legal guardian, which is me, says you have to go."

"It's not like I'm going to do anything important," Aberforth said, glaring at him. "Not like you are." He paused and looked at Harry. "What do I do? What's my profession?"

"Er," Harry said, unsure if he should say. He didn't want to get involved. He'd been in the cross fire of Albus already that day. He'd rather not make it worse.

"What is it, Potter?"

"A bartender," he said, looking away and wondering why he had to be in another yelling match.

"See! See!" Aberforth said, pointing at Harry. "What's the point of going to school if I'm a bartender of all things?"

"School is still important, Aberforth!" Albus said.

"Who's going to take care of Ariana?" he asked.

"I will. She'll be fine."

"I thought you were starting work in September," Aberforth said, standing up and coming over to Albus where he sat by the fireplace. He snatched his letter from Albus and sat down on the couch, grabbing his notebook.

"I'm not anymore," Albus said.

"What are you doing, then?"

"Er," Albus said, looking away. Harry watched him as he hesitated. Harry wasn't sure he ever saw Albus so unsure of saying something before and he thought it was the oddest thing he'd ever seen.

"Albus," Aberforth said. "Please tell me you're not going off with Grindelwald."

Harry couldn't believe it.

"What!" Harry said, jerking his head to look at Albus. He was already thinking of going off with him? He couldn't!

"You can't take Ariana with you!" Aberforth yelled.

"I haven't decided yet," Albus said. "We've only been talking about it for two days."

He stopped and stood up. "Let's stop talking about this. Aberforth, you're going back to Hogwarts. You only have two years left."

Aberforth fumed and stood up. He stomped up the stairs and Harry heard a muffled scream after a door slammed shut. Harry and Albus shared a look. But they looked away from each other not long after.

"What do you mean you want to go off with Grindelwald?" Harry asked. He wasn't happy at all.

But to Harry's dismay, Albus said nothing.

And Harry felt defeated.

* * *

Albus watched Harry stand after a few silent minutes.

"I'm going. I was supposed to organize potions this morning," Harry said.

Albus nodded, wishing that Harry wouldn't leave. Even though he had gotten on his nerves a few times that day, he still liked having the company. "Happy Birthday."

Harry's smile didn't reach his eyes. He said, "Thank you," and then disappeared from the room a second later.

Albus stood up, feeling weary.

Honestly, Albus hadn't really been serious when he'd suggested to Gellert that they go on a search for the Deathly Hallows.

"Wouldn't it be brilliant?" he said. He fantasized about it more than actually feeling like he wanted to do it. Being on the road with Gellert, visiting many different places and countries… it was what he'd wanted to do with Elphias, but the latter hadn't worked out, obviously, but maybe once Aberforth was out of the picture, Gellert and him could do that.

He thought Gellert would scoff that off, saying how stupid of an idea that was, but he surprised Albus by clapping his hands together. "That is the most fantastic idea I've ever heard," Gellert said, enthusiastically, without seeming to really even consider it. "Why didn't I think of that? Could you imagine?"

Gellert's smile was wide. "It'd be better than being around here. I feel so suffocated in this tiny town. I can't wait to get out."

Albus wanted to admit that he felt the same, but he didn't get a chance to because Gellert pulled a piece of parchment toward him and started writing down places that they'd researched for locations where the Deathly Hallows could be.

"I have one last place to check here," Gellert said, as he wrote Godric's Hollow down on the list.

"Where is that?"

Gellert didn't seem to hear him. "You say your brother needs to leave on September 1st? We'll leave around then. Oh, this will be brilliant. Dumbledore and Grindelwald traveling the world! We'll be world famous."

That afternoon, they planned out what Gellert called their Grand Adventure, which Albus quite liked.

Though, he did have one question. "My sister," he said, realizing what going on their Grand Adventure would mean. "What do I do with her?"

Gellert shrugged. "Bring her with us. I like her."

Although Albus felt weary on the idea, he convinced himself that bringing her would be the only way he'd be able to do this. She couldn't be that hard to take care of.

After that, Albus couldn't get the Grand Adventure out of his mind. The only time he didn't think of it was when Harry was around. He completely forgot about it, in fact, because Harry could be a good distraction.

Only a couple days later, Albus wondered what Gellert was doing. He didn't want to believe that Harry was right about Gellert. It had to be a coincidence.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was part of Gellert's plans. Even if the Potter files had nothing to do with it, why was he in London?

Albus went into a very restless sleep that night. He wasn't sure what he was dreaming about. He forgot it immediately after Aberforth woke him up twice, saying, "Albus, if you're going to keep thrashing about, go sleep somewhere else."

The second time he awoke, Aberforth pulled him up and chucked him out of the room.

Albus stared at the door, too tired to do anything else. He dragged himself over to Ariana's door to peek in. She was sleeping soundly, unlike most nights.

Sighing, he turned and looked at the other door in the hall. His mother's room had been closed off for the whole month. Neither Albus nor Aberforth had stepped into it.

Albus wasn't sure why, but whenever he passed it he felt as if there was some kind of darkness covering it. He could barely look at the door without feeling some kind of foreboding.

He touched the doorknob, but he couldn't bring himself to push the door open.

Instead, he turned around and went downstairs. He lit a fire in the grate and then sat cross-legged on the floor, staring into it for a very long time.

He had no idea what to do. He suddenly felt very lonely. He knew Harry was angry at him, Gellert had disappeared, and he hadn't had a letter from Elphias in a two weeks.

He had to fight back tears. Again, he felt stuck. Gellert had been a way out. Where was he? Albus wished he'd said something more about what he was doing London.

If there was one thing Albus couldn't stand, it was not knowing what was going on. He'd felt it when everything had happened with Ariana and again when his father died. Since then, he vowed to keep learning and understanding and knowing.

Albus curled up on the rug, closed his eyes, and out of anything, he wished the pain would just go away.

He didn't know it, but somewhere miles and miles away, Gellert Grindelwald was looking over the files Albus refused to believe he'd stolen.

* * *

_A/N: I really feel like I need to apologize again for last year… I think I only wrote about 5ish chapters from May 2011-August 2012. __I do have a reason for it… not a great one. I was just going through a ton of stuff last year... junior year of college, counselling for some issues I had with myself, my grandpa's death. I'm good and happy now, though, so yay. But, the point of all this is to tell you how thankful I am for everyone who's stuck with me. It means so much to me. Honestly, I'm just so surprised people actually enjoy this story and I think I'll be forever grateful for the support._

_I just want everyone to know that I really do enjoy writing this story. I know it's not the best (especially because every single chapter I'm like "Ugh. Why didn't I add that before?!" I felt that way in this chapter and it made it really difficult to write), but I still have so much fun writing it. I think that's the most important thing, to like what you're doing no matter what. _

_The story's about to take a turn now. I'll be ending it very soon. Possibly within the next 10 chapters. So, yeah. I just wanted to say thank you again. Sorry for the super long A/N._


	30. 30: Return

**Chapter 30: _Return_**

Albus was still awake when morning came. The fire had long died down and he had changed position again, sitting up and reading through a book he'd had on the couch, one that Bathilda had handed him the other day to read.

He was nearly finished with it when Aberforth came downstairs.

"Were you down here all night?" he asked, looking over Albus's shoulder.

"Yes," Albus said, refusing to look at him because he knew his face was bright red.

"Oh," Aberforth said in response. "Well, I have to milk the goats."

He was nearly to the kitchen door when Albus said, "Wait," and stood up.

"What?" Aberforth said, glancing back with an annoyed expression.

"I'll come with you."

Aberforth seemed confused, but he nodded slowly and led Albus out into the garden. While his brother rounded up the goats, he sat down on a stack of hay and went back to his book, reading about human transfiguration. He wished he could practice what was in the book, but the only person in his vicinity was Aberforth and for some reason, he doubted he'd agree to let Albus change him into an animal.

"Heard from your 'best friend' yet?" Aberforth said with a sarcastic tone.

"No," he muttered. He wished Gellert would send him some letter soon or, at best, come back to Godric's Hollow.

"Pity," Aberforth said.

Albus had a hard time restraining from cursing him, but he managed it.

"Why do I have to go back to school?" Aberforth said as he sat down on his milking stool and started to spray the milk into a bucket. "I'm so bored there."

"And you're not bored here?" Albus muttered lightly, flipping to the next page of the book and continuing to read.

"Shut it," he said. "Ariana's good company. Better company than-"

"If you insult me, I swear you'll have boils all over your face for a week."

Aberforth huffed and continued to milk. Albus finished the book by the time Aberforth was done, but Aberforth didn't go inside. He sat down next to Albus on the hay.

"Do you miss Mother?"

Albus looked up in surprise. "Of course I do."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't move. He stared off into a bush for a moment, then said, "What about Father?"

"Yes," Albus said, catching Aberforth's eye.

Albus thought for a second that he might be able to see something that Aberforth was thinking, but instead, he just saw his bright blue eyes. He could see absolutely nothing. Usually, he could see something a person was thinking, had almost always been able to when he first heard of Occlumency and Legilimency in his third year. Once he learned how to see people's thoughts, it came naturally to him.

The only other person he hadn't been able to see thoughts of was Gellert, but that didn't surprise him.

Aberforth surprised him, though, especially since he had been around the four years he'd been able to do it.

But, then again, when he thought about it, Aberforth rarely made eye contact with him.

Albus looked away from Aberforth just as the sun rose over the trees and hit Aberforth's face. Albus stared for a moment, then smiled and lifted his hand up to touch the area just over Aberforth's upper lip.

Aberforth pulled away, glaring at him.

"Growing a wispy mustache, huh? I know what to get you for your birthday now."

Aberforth huffed again and stood up, carrying the bucket toward the door. "You should grow a beard, Albus. You'd look all wise and intelligent once it turned gray in a few years."

"A few years?" Albus asked. "I'm not that old."

"Okay, more like 30 or 40." He opened the door. "Plus with your wise, wizened beard, you can hide your weak chin."

"I do not have a weak chin!" Albus yelled as he shut the door. From the open kitchen window, he could hear a gruff laugh.

Albus was feeling his chin, trying to see if he really did have a small one when he heard a pop. He looked up and around, his heart feeling as if it skipped a beat. "Gellert?" he called out.

"No, it's Harry."

Albus, slightly disappointed, said, "Oh."

"Well, I feel appreciated now," Harry said as he came into view around the side of the house and stood in front of him.

"Sorry." He frowned slightly and looked down at his book.

"Has Grindelwald shown up yet?" Harry asked, sitting down beside Albus.

"No."

Albus sighed and looked up. Harry refused to catch his eye, which Albus was fine with. He did want to know something, though, something that he probably wouldn't be able to get an answer of if he didn't peek in Harry's mind.

"Harry," Albus said anyway. "Gellert and I aren't friends anymore in the future, are we?"

Harry smiled sadly, but didn't answer at all. Albus had no idea what that meant.

"You did know we're friends, right?" he tried instead.

Harry nodded. "There are things I don't know that happened between you and Gellert. I hardly know a thing, and the things I did learn were from a foul woman who wrote a book on you and what Aberforth told me."

"You've talked to Aberforth about this?" Albus said, frowning.

Harry nodded, but said nothing.

"But not me?"

"We've had some serious conversations, but it was always about me."

"I still don't understand why I'd taken an interest in you."

Harry ran a hand through his hair making it messier. "I guess I was involved in a lot of things. Not by choice. That was just the way it was. I never asked for anything to happen to me. I hated all I the duties I had to complete, but I knew it was for good reason. You'll find out soon enough."

Albus gave a humorless laugh and looked toward Hokey and Pokey, the goats, who were grazing the little grass in the yard. "Aberforth said this morning I should grow a beard and when it turns gray in a few years, I'd look all wise. What's with the few years and soon enough today? I'm not even eighteen yet."

"You will be the day after tomorrow," Harry said. "Anyway, I've always seen you as ancient so…"

"Thanks," Albus said, smiling. "But I'll have you know I'm technically younger than you right now."

Harry laughed and stood up. "Right. Well, I was going to sneak into Grindelwald's room and look through his papers, if you'd like to join."

Albus raised an eyebrow, surprised at Harry's tone. It was nonchalant and too conversational for the fact that he wanted to break into Bathilda's house.

"I don't normally condone burglary, but honestly, I am interested in what he's been writing."

Albus stood up and stared following Harry over to the gate.

"Oh, by the way," said Harry as he pulled out his invisibility cloak. "You should grow a beard. You should see the one you have in the future."

Albus smirked, suddenly remembering the memories he'd seen from Harry. Aberforth was right, he would look wise. In his mind, he promised himself that he would stop shaving off facial hair on his eighteenth birthday.

* * *

Albus put a disillusionment charm around himself.

It wasn't too tricky getting in the house. The back door was unlocked and Bathilda wasn't in the kitchen. They snuck toward the living room, where Albus could see Bathilda sitting in front of the fireplace, looking through her drafts for her history book. She was muttering to herself.

Albus and Harry walked carefully along the hallway toward the stairs and carefully stepped up them. Albus managed to skip over the squeaky stair, but when Harry stepped on it, they both paused, listening in panic, but Bathilda didn't call out or come to look.

When they finally made it to Gellert's room, they both glanced around. They didn't have to look far because all the papers were stacked on the desk in two piles.

Albus pointed to one side for Harry to look through and he took the other.

"These are all in German," Harry muttered as he shifted through the pile.

"And these are all our correspondences," Albus said, frowning. "Let me have the German ones."

He glanced through them, but he hardly recognized any words. He frowned, looking instead at the drawings Gellert had done. A few pages had the symbol of the Deathly Hallows and at some points, Albus could see a mediocre drawing of a house and something that looked like a cloth. On another, a bunch of stick figures stood in a circle. He wished Gellert could have been skilled in drawing like Aberforth was.

"I wish I knew German," Albus muttered.

"You don't know German?" Harry asked. "You know Mermish for God's sake!"

Albus frowned. "Do I? I only know how to speak English, Latin, and read Ancient Runes at this point."

Harry groaned. "Why did I think he'd write in English?"

Albus didn't respond as he shifted through the papers. "He'd know if I put a language charm on these," he muttered. "He can feel magical residue."

"Really? You mean like you could with the Snitch?"

Albus nodded and sighed wearily. "I think he's going to come back. He wouldn't keep all these here if he wasn't."

Albus paced around the room for a moment, thinking hard. "I could duplicate them, but that magic would still leave its trace. I don't know any spells that make me able to read languages…"

He closed his eyes tightly, thinking. What could he do? This should have come more easily to him…

"I don't know," Albus said, shrugging. "Can you think of anything?"

Harry shook his head.

They were both about to turn around and leave the house when there was a knock on the front door while they were both stepping onto the stairs.

Harry looked at Albus, his eyes wide, and pulled his invisibility cloak over them. Albus's heart skipped a beat and hoped that it was Gellert back again.

Bathilda came into the hallway and looked through the window door. Then, when she opened it, Albus was shocked to see Aberforth standing there.

"Hello, Aberforth," Bathilda said. "What do you need?"

"Have you seen Albus?" he asked.

"No, I haven't, dear," she said. "Are you looking for him?"

"Well... no," he said. "I mean, yeah. I wanted to go in town to get him a birthday present, but I need someone to watch Ariana."

"Oh, dear, I can watch her," said Bathilda, already stepping out of the house.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

When she left, Albus stood at the top of the stairs, staring straight at the door. "He's getting me a birthday present?" he said. Honestly, he was surprised. He couldn't remember a time that Aberforth ever got him one.

"Wait," Albus said, his eyes widening. He smiled. "Aberforth!"

"What?" Harry asked, looking confused.

"Why didn't I think of this before? He knows all sorts of language spells! That's how he reads. I don't know exactly how he does it, but he might have something… Wait here."

He ran down the stairs and out of the house as fast as he could. He looked toward his house, but he doubted Aberforth would still be there. He looked the other way and was relieved to see him walking down the road, running his hand along a fence.

Albus ran to catch up with him, and when he did, Aberforth looked around at him, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"Tell me your reading spell."

* * *

Harry watched as Aberforth stood in front of the papers, looking through them. "Why do you need to look through these anyway?" he asked.

"Because it might have something about what he's doing right now," Harry said. He noticed the pained look Albus sent him and he looked away, feeling guilty. "You know he's up to something, Albus."

Albus sighed and looked toward his brother. "Is there any spell you can do that doesn't involve touching the parchment with magic?"

"Maybe," he said. "I could modify my normal spell. The one I made read the parchment out in my head, but you'd have to put the spell on that. Do you have something you've written?"

Albus reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter from Hogwarts from the day before. Aberforth sat down on the floor with his wand out and muttered spells that Harry couldn't decipher toward the parchment, then he pointed his wand to his head and muttered more as he looked straight at the parchment. It must have taken him fifteen minutes of muttering before he smiled and said, "Well, I got it to read English out to me."

He stood up and looked over the parchment of Gellert's. Harry watched as he started talking to himself more with his wand pointed at his head. He thought Albus was going to explode with worry. Every time Aberforth said something new, Albus would cringe as if expecting Aberforth to blow his head off.

This time thirty minutes passed. Aberforth began cursing harshly after a few minutes and practically screamed.

"Are you okay?" Albus asked, suddenly by his side.

"I'm fine," he said through his teeth. "But this damn spell just won't work! It's reading German out to me! I need you to be English, dammit!"

But he kept going, although he started screaming out Latin word to it.

Then, finally, after he said the words, "Recito Malus Transgressio!" he smiled at Albus and said, "Got it."

Albus smiled. "Recite bad passages?"

Aberforth shrugged. "Anything Grindelwald wrote down probably isn't too good, don't you think?"

Albus didn't respond. "Just teach me the spell."

Aberforth showed Albus how to do it as Harry looked on. He thought Albus seemed nervous as he put his wand against his temple and said what Aberforth told him to say.

Then, Albus's eyes widened. "This is wonderful, this spell," he said as he looked through the pages. "The Three Brothers, Transfiguration… oh God-"

"What?" Aberforth and Harry said at the same time.

"Nothing," Albus said, shaking his head as he put down the sheet of parchment he'd been looking over. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to know, so he just tried to ignore that.

As the stack got smaller and smaller, Albus sat down and seemed to be aggravated. He'd sigh every so often, but not say anything. Harry stood by him, wishing he would say something.

Finally when he got to the last page, he just said, "The only thing I found was "July 31st- London, Potter decoy."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Albus said, pulling at his hair. "I- I still can't believe what you said, Harry. I don't see why he would need stuff on the Potter's- Oh!"

Albus cursed and hid his face in his hands. "Aberforth, go away."

Aberforth glared at him. "You can tell me! Go on."

"No, please go."

He narrowed his eyes and huffed, then stormed out of the house, clearly unhappy about that.

"Why does he always do that?" Albus asked Harry, who just shrugged.

"What were you going to tell me?" Harry asked.

"Oh, right," he said, shaking his head. "I think… I think he was looking for the same thing I've been looking for. I mean, information on the Peverell family. You told me months ago you were related to them. I went looking, but I figured Cadmus Potter must have taken them out of town storage by now, since he was looking for you. I wonder…"

Albus stared off into space for a moment.

"What if he was trying to frame you?!" he said, standing up to pace around the room again. "I mean, he wanted the Peverell files, right? But he stole all the files to frame you. Does that make sense?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Um, no."

"It makes sense to me," Albus said, continuing to pace. "Cadmus Potter came to me to look for you. He probably couldn't imagine anyone else coming into his house and the Ministry to steal files on the Potter's. But, wait…"

Harry wasn't sure about Albus's train of thought. He stared, unsure of what to do.

"So, you believe me?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Believe you? You mean about Gellert breaking into the house? Well, he had good reason, didn't he?" Albus clapped his hands together excitedly. "That means he's found another Hallow! The Potters must have-"

"Albus," Harry said.

But Albus jumped and ran toward the door. "I have to find Gellert! Oh, this is magnificent!"

He rushed down the stairs and the front door slammed shut, leaving Harry behind in Gellert's room. Harry looked down at the papers, wondering if they said anything else.

Aberforth stood in the front yard of his house when Harry arrived, his eyebrows knitted.

"Albus just rushed in," Aberforth said, looking up at the house. "What did he find out?"

"I don't know," Harry said, stepping up to the door. Aberforth followed behind him. Bathilda called out to them, but Harry ignored that, going straight up the stairs. Aberforth didn't follow, though, only went to usher Bathilda out, saying that he didn't need the help anymore.

When Harry entered, Albus was at his bed, packing a bag.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, staring.

"The Hallows, Harry!" he said, his smile wide and his blue eyes twinkling more than Harry had ever seen them. He looked excited, his hands shaking wildly as he stuffed parchment in his bag.

"Albus, I really don't-"

"It's absolutely brilliant!" Albus said. "I wonder which he found? Maybe the wand or, or the-"

"Albus-"

"What?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "He stole from the Potter's! That's my family."

"He's just got files, Harry," Albus said, packing his Tales of Beedle the Bard book into his bag, the one that Hermione would later inherit. "He didn't actually get the Hallow-"

"The Potter's have the cloak," Harry said irritably. "He's going to steal-"

"It's the cloak?"

"Albus!" Harry said, but strangely it seemed to have an echo. Harry glanced at the door, surprised. He realized that Aberforth had called Albus's name at the same time.

"What?" Albus called back, buckling his bag together.

"Your 'best friend' is outside!"

Albus smiled widely and rushed out of the room. Harry groaned and followed after him. Albus was letting Gellert in from the back garden when Harry found him again, saying, "I thought you'd left for good!" Grindelwald's arms were laden with a stack.

"You stole those!" Harry said, stepping forward.

"Yes, in fact, I did," he said, dropping them on the kitchen table. "Here, you can have them back. I don't need them anymore. I got your patronus, Albus. I think I know where the cloak is."

"Where?" Albus asked as he folded some bread in a cloth napkin.

"In London, Auror office," he said, smiling. "I was just about to go back when you called me. Thought I would include you."

Albus smiled still more widely. Harry wanted to punch Gellert in the face. Couldn't Albus see this person wasn't a good person? He was planning on breaking into the Ministry right after he'd just broken into it, just to get something that would help him take over the Wizarding world in due time.

"Albus," Harry said. "Please listen to-"

He looked at Harry. "This is what I want to do."

"What about your brother and sister?" Harry asked, glancing at Aberforth standing at the door, his jaw dropped and Ariana standing close behind him.

"Oh, yes, of course," Albus said, looking at them, too. "Ariana, you'll have to come with me. I can't leave you alone-"

"What?" Aberforth said, glancing between Ariana and Albus. "What are you talking about?"

"The Hallows!" Albus said again, but this time he seemed annoyed. A chill ran through Harry, feeling the implications arising. Something horrible was about to happen, he could feel it. The hair on the back of his neck stood. "This may be the most important discovery! Having all three Hallows. We're about to find one, Aberforth. We're going to be famous!"

"That is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard in my life," Aberforth grumbled. "Who do you think you are? Merlin or something? You're not going to be famous for finding something that's in a stupid children's story."

"They're real, Abe," Albus said, the bread forgotten on the counter. Harry glanced at Grindelwald standing at the door. His arms were crossed and a smile ran across his face. "They're powerful. Who wouldn't want to be so powerful that they can defy death?"

"It's not powerful, it's careless!" Aberforth said, stalking forward, right in front of his older brother. Harry looked at Ariana. She was backing away. Harry wanted to push her away, upstairs, but he could feel Grindelwald's eyes on him. "There's no point in defying death. Death is more natural and permanent than living. You can't live forever. You can only be dead forever."

"But this is a way to-"

"No, it's not!" Aberforth said, slapping Albus's face.

Albus stood stock still after the slap, shocked. Harry started forward, but in that moment, Aberforth raised in wand at Albus.

"You can't do it, Albus!" he said. "And I can't let you take Ariana! If you do, you'd be putting her and others around you in danger. You know her temper. You don't know how to control it. She killed our mother, Albus. She could kill many more if her magic went out of control."

"I'm bringing her with me," Albus said, pulling out his wand threateningly. The smile had long since faded from his face, now his eyes were glaring. Harry was sure he felt some energy radiating from him. "I am her guardian. You're to go to school and not worry about us."

"It's his fault," Aberforth suddenly screamed, pointing at Grindelwald. "He did this to you! You wouldn't be this arrogant if he hadn't come here. And even before then, your head was too far up your-"

"Aberforth," Harry said, seeing that Grindelwald was pulling out his wand, as well. Harry pulled out his wand, as well.

"It is not his fault!" Albus screamed. "We have the same interests-"

"He's manipulating you!" Harry said. "He's just using you. You're just as powerful as he is. He needs you on his side-"

"Don't listen to him," Gellert said, sending a spell at Harry, which Harry dodged. It smashed into the vase on the kitchen table. "You're my best friend, Albus. We could do so many great things to the Wizarding World if we worked together. We could transform it. It's not me who's manipulating you, Albus. It's Potter, here. He doesn't want you to achieve our goals."

Albus looked at Harry, his eyes abruptly wide, as if a realization came to him.

"Don't listen-"

"See?" Grindelwald said. "He's trying to stop you. All friends should want you to be successful. He doesn't want you to be-"

"Harry, is that true?" Albus asked, looking between them.

Harry should his head. "No, I just-"

"Silencio!" Grindelwald yelled at Harry. Harry blocked it easily, though.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled, but Grindelwald dodged it, stepping merely to the side. They were now standing in a square in the tiny kitchen. Albus and Aberforth standing directly opposite each other and Grindelwald and Harry doing the same.

"It's him or me, Albus," Grindelwald said, smiling. "I'm powerful like you. We could be great."

Albus's eyes darted between Harry and Grindelwald. Harry looked back desperately, hoping Albus would chose him.

"Albus," Harry said. "I know you-"

Albus lifted his wand and for a brief moment, Harry wondered whom his old Headmaster would choose. Someone who knew his future or a friend he'd only known for a month.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the very long update wait. I think it's been 8 months? Anyway, in that time I've written a 45 page thesis, graduated college, and now I have a job. So that's my excuse for the wait. I think this will be 3-4 more chapters. I'm sure you all can guess what's going to happen next chapter. I'll update very, very soon. I promise.


	31. 31: Errors and Understandings

**Chapter 31: _Errors and Understandings_**

* * *

Albus looked between Harry and Grindelwald standing opposite each other. Were they really making him choose? He stared at Harry. While deflective on his goals and past, Albus could just feel the concern he had in that moment. It showed in his features, his eyes wide, his lips parted. He seemed terrified, but his feet were steady and ready for action.

Gellert's expression was much more difficult to read. He looked vaguely bored in his eyes, but a slight smirk was present on his lips. Gellert was someone who he shared common interests with. They wanted to do great things with the Wizarding world, change policies, change the mindset to be more magical based. He could see himself achieving his career and life goals with Gellert there as a support.

But with Harry, he'd be gone in a few days. He would go back to the future where he belonged. He didn't belong here.

He lifted his wand.

But just as he did, Gellert yelled, "Stupefy!" Harry jumped and immediately put up a shield.

"What are you doing?" Albus asked Gellert, pushing Aberforth away. He didn't want his brother involved.

"He wants you to fail!" Gellert said, sneering at Harry, whose face suddenly grew darker, eyes narrowed.

"Albus," Aberforth said, grabbing his arm. "Don't listen to him. It's not going to be safe for Ariana! She's not fit-"

"I don't-"

"Crucio!" Another light shot passed Albus's head toward Aberforth. Albus's heart leapt, but it was too late. Aberforth was now on the ground, screaming and thrashing about. Albus stared, then turned to glare at Gellert. "Stop it! You're hurting him!" He waved his wand, causing Gellert to stumble back into a bookshelf. Aberforth fell heavily, whimpering. He couldn't believe Gellert just cast the Cruciatus Curse at his brother. He didn't even recall hearing the words.

"You want this, Albus. The Hallows! They've been the one thing you've wanted for your whole life," Gellert said, his eyes suddenly pleading.

"You just hurt my brother," Albus said, his voice a low growl.

In that moment, Aberforth got up. Albus tried to grab him, but he just missed his collar by an inch. Aberforth jumped on Gellert and they both fell to the floor, Aberforth tried to pound Gellert with his fist, but Gellert was faster. He grabbed Aberforth's wrists and pushed him off.

Aberforth shot a Jelly-Legs jinx at Gellert, but he rolled out of the way, aiming his wand at Aberforth. Aberforth, though, was yelling out all sorts of spells. "Stupefy!" "Confringo!" Gellert dodged them, though, and sent one at Albus silently. Albus blocked that with a quick "Protego!" and finally grabbed Aberforth by the collar to pull him back.

AHAHAHA

A multitude of different colored lights flashed between Albus, Grindelwald, and Aberforth. Harry threw out shields wherever he could to make sure neither of the Dumbledore's got hurt.

Between the shouts and the spells shattering wood, pottery, and papers in the objects' wake, Harry didn't even notice a whirlwind beginning to form at his feet. The only reason he even noticed was because a piece of wood pierced through his jeans. He jumped as the pain coursed through his leg.

Then he heard the highest pitched scream he ever heard before, even over the Banshee he'd come across two months into his Auror work.

He turned, seeing Ariana standing only two feet away. Her face was screwed up in the scream, her eyes red and tears streaming down her face.

"Ariana!" Aberforth yelled, but the spells were still coming. Dust and papers whirled around and the papers caught fire. Harry tried to run forward to grab her, pull her away from the flying spells, but a red and a green light shot passed his shoulder and hit her squarely in the chest.

Her screams abruptly stopped and her body swayed. Harry only just caught her before she hit the ground.

"Stop! STOP!" Aberforth screamed.

Harry looked up in just enough time to see that Grindelwald's eyes were wide in panic before he disappeared from the kitchen with a pop, one last red spell hitting right where he'd been before. Albus dropped his wand arm and caught Harry's eye. They wavered there for a moment before slowly twitching down. His face grew pale.

"Ariana?" he said, his voice cracking. He dropped to his knees next to Harry. Aberforth was already checking her pulse.

"Please don't be dead," Harry muttered, staring into Ariana's face, her mouth still opened and her eyes closed, fear still etched into her young face.

"There's… there's nothing," Aberforth said, his voice low and strangled. He looked over Ariana's body, then placed his hand over her mouth. "She's dead."

He stared, his eyes crossing and his breathing going heavy. Albus hardly seemed to notice. He, too, was staring at his sister in shock.

"She can't," Aberforth said. His whole body started to tremble as he turned away, wheezing and gagging at the same time. Harry laid Ariana gently to the ground. Albus swayed as he looked up at Harry and then around the kitchen.

"Where is he?" he said, his voice just as strangled as Aberforth, but he didn't seem to be having the physical response that his brother was. Harry put a hand on Aberforth's shoulder.

"Ariana," Aberforth said, tears slipping down his face and landing on Ariana's chest. He reached over to hug her, putting his ear across her chest, as if hoping her heart was still beating.

"Harry," Albus said, staring blankly at his sibling. "I need to get Cadmus Potter, but I can't. I don't know- I mean… I have no idea whose spell it was. The last thing I remember was casting a stunning spell. I- I don't-"

Harry had never seen him so lost for words.

"Go get him," Harry said. "I'll stay here with Aberforth."

"But, Harry, you'll get arrested."

"I don't care. Just go."

His eyes wavered over Harry's. He could tell he was probing into Harry's mind, but Harry didn't care. He let Albus see him sitting in the Hog's Head the night before the Battle of Hogwarts with Ariana's picture hanging above Aberforth's fireplace and Aberforth's talking to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

'I was her favorite,' older Aberforth was saying in Harry's head. 'Not Albus, he was always up in her bedroom when he was home… He didn't want to be bothered with her. She liked me best.'

Harry blinked, trying to sort through his memory of that night. He couldn't remember much. The Battle was much more important in his mind than his meeting with Aberforth.

When he caught Albus's eye again, he let him see even more. 'I think she wanted to help, but she didn't really know what she was doing, and I don't know which of us did it, it could have been any of us- and she was dead… 'Course, Grindelwald scampered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn't want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasn't he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the-'

Harry wasn't sure how Albus was extracting these words. They were all a blur to him. But still, he was. His eyes electric with trying to find the truth within Harry's mind.

'He was never free,' the past Harry insisted.

'I beg your pardon?' said old Aberforth.

'Never. The night that your brother died-"

Albus abruptly looked away, tears slipping down his face. "This was supposed to happen," he said, looking down at Ariana. "She was supposed to die. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried to," Harry said. "I was about to push her out of the way when I realized what was about to happen."

Albus covered his face with his hands. His body began to shake as he sobbed. Harry wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to stand, but instead, he leaned forward. He felt awkward hugging Albus. Harry never liked hugs and avoided them whenever he could. But just witnessing the greatest regret of his future Headmaster's life made him want to do something.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, wishing Dumbledore's screams from the cave would stop echoing through his head. 'Make it stop, make it stop. It's all my fault, all my fault. Please make it stop. I'll do anything. KILL ME."

"All- my- fault," Albus said, still sobbing. "Please. Please…"

"I'll go get Bathilda," Harry said, dropping his arms. "She'll get Cadmus, all right?"

He nodded, the tears slipping through his fingers.

Harry stood and rushed out of the house. He ran up Bathilda's walkway and pounded on the door. The door swung open and he began saying, "Ariana Dumbledore- She-"

But instead of seeing Bathilda, a man with messy black hair, hazel eyes, and a deep scar across his jaw stood before him.

Harry swallowed and stepped back.

* * *

Albus watched Harry leave him with Aberforth and their sister's dead body. Aberforth was still wheezing, his face still pressed against Ariana's chest.

"Ab," he said, standing shakily. He felt faint, but at least he wasn't having a panic attack like Aberforth. "Let's… let's leave."

Aberforth let Albus grab him by the upper arm and pull him to the living area by the fireplace.

"Breathe, Aberforth," he said, kneeling down in front of him. Aberforth shook his head, his blue eyes filled with tears. He wanted to give Aberforth a promise of some kind, saying things would end up being all right, but he didn't think that was going to be true. He recalled Harry's memories streaming through his head, how Harry insisted Albus was never free, even, apparently, up until he died.

"You did this," Aberforth said, still breathing heavily. "It's all your fault. It's not fair!"

Albus nodded. "Breathe, Aberforth."

Finally, his breaths began to calm over the next few seconds. He still wasn't breathing evenly, though, when he said faintly, "All your fault."

"I know," Albus muttered.

He stood up and sat down next to Aberforth, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Aberforth continued to cry, but Albus just stared blankly at the wall ahead of him.

He had no idea what to think. He'd never been so lost for thoughts. All he could see was his sister's body laying in the kitchen, motionless.

And Aberforth was completely right. If he hadn't become friends with Gell- Grindelwald, none of that would have happened. Aberforth wouldn't have been hit with an Unforgivable. Ariana would still be alive.

He didn't want to create the funeral plans. He didn't want to do anything. He closed his eyes tightly and wished he could just sit there forever with his brother.

* * *

Harry looked up at Cadmus.

"Are you-" Cadmus said, drawing his wand.

He had said to Albus he didn't care if he'd get arrested, but now in the face of it, he realized what that would mean. He'd most likely be brought in for questioning for the missing papers at the Ministry and the Potter's home. He couldn't waste time like that, not when the potion to get him home was nearly done.

He was lost for barely a second before he screamed out, "The Dumbledore's need you!"

He disapparated on the spot, knowing that would put him in even more trouble in the future if he got caught. He couldn't risk it.

He landed in the workshop of Flamel, who was sitting at his desk, sorting out ingredients.

"Good, you're back," Flamel said. "I need you to- What's happened?"

"Albus's sister was killed," Harry said, rubbing his forehead near his scar. "And I ran into Cadmus Potter when I went to tell Bathilda."

"Ah," Flamel said, surveying Harry closely. He huffed, then turned back. "Looks as if I'll have to send you back sooner. Cadmus already has a search out for you."

"The Elixir isn't done yet, though," Harry said, looking into the cauldron.

"Only two more days. It's matured faster than I thought it would," he said, stirring it with a grisly old hand. "For now, you're to stay here. No more meddling with the Dumbledore's. Now, get to ordering the potions like I asked."

Harry knocked over a few potions. He couldn't help his hands shaking. His thoughts kept wandering back to Albus and Aberforth. He wondered how they were doing. He wished he could be there for them, but he knew at least three Aurors would be around. He couldn't risk it anymore, even if he wanted to.

When he went to bed that night, he stared up at the ceiling for a very long time. Why hadn't he tried harder to stop Ariana dying? He could have save her. He could have lived up to his 'saving people thing' as Hermione always called it. This was Albus's worst memory, it was the thing that caused him the most pain, the thing he saw in the Mirror of Erised. He wanted Ariana back more than anything.

Harry could have changed that, let Ariana live.

But then would he have changed? Would he have moved on from Gellert Grindelwald? Harry remembered the Unforgivable that Grindelwald had hit Aberforth with. Harry wondered if that would have been enough to convince him to stop being friends with Grindelwald, but Harry had no idea what would happen.

What was done was done.

When his watch hands turned to midnight, he couldn't take rolling restlessly in bed anymore. He disapparated to Godric's Hollow and took post outside the Dumbledore house. He could see that the fireplace inside was flickering. After an hour sitting in the woods under his cloak, he saw a thin, tall figure stand by the window.

After a few minutes, the figure turned away and the fire went out.

* * *

Albus watched as Cadmus Potter leaned over Ariana, checking her pulse and eyes. Finally he sighed and said, "She's dead. I'm sorry, Albus."

Albus nodded slowly. Cadmus glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the shattered pottery on the floor, the papers scattered about, and the cabinets broken, hanging off their hinges.

"Nasty fight, huh?" he said. "Who was involved?"

"My brother, and Gellert Grindelwald, and me," Albus said softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"And Harry Potter?" he asked, looking up at Albus, trying to catch his eye.

Albus looked directly at him and said, "No."

"Harry Potter was not here," Cadmus said, obviously dubious.

"No, sir."

"Then why did I just see him at Bathilda's door?"

Albus shook his head. "I don't know."

Cadmus narrowed his eyes, then reached for the paper closest to him. He only glanced at it before he showed Albus. "These are the stolen files."

"It wasn't Harry Potter," Albus said, glancing back at Aberforth still on the couch. He was rubbing his eyes. "Gel- Grindelwald did it. He was looking for some magical objects. He thought you might have some, so he took those."

"So, you're telling me Harry Potter has not been here?" Cadmus asked, tilting his head in disbelief.

"I haven't seen him in quite a while," Albus said, not feeling at all bad that he was lying through his teeth. He was glad he'd worked so hard on Occlumency his sixth year. "Maybe he was watching us as the fight broke out. I have no idea, Sir."

"Right," Cadmus said, sighing. He stood up straight. "I'll get an investigative squad in here to clean up and move Ariana. Would you like her taken to the church?"

He nodded.

"You're not to leave the house," Cadmus said. "Not until we've got this straightened out and have your story confirmed. We'll check the documents for Gellert Grindelwald's magical residue and fingerprints."

Albus nodded and turned. He sat back next to Aberforth and closed his eyes, still wishing that none of that had happened.

Albus was woken just as the sun was setting. He looked up in confusion at Cadmus standing above him. All his memories from earlier in the day rushed back to him. The fact that Ariana was dead and Gellert was gone hit him heavily. Tears formed in his eyes.

"We found that Gellert's fingerprints are all over the documents," Cadmus said. "We've put on a man hunt for him. Ariana has been moved to the church, as well."

Albus nodded, sitting up. He rubbed his eyes.

"We're still looking for Potter, though," Cadmus said. "He's still illegal here."

Albus nodded, but he was sure that Harry would be gone soon enough. He was quite safe. Albus, though, still had to deal with the grief, still had to deal with Ariana's dead body, still had to deal with his brother and his career.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, especially right after your mother," Cadmus said, his eyes growing soft and pitying. Albus looked away. "I do hope things begin to look up for you. You're a very promising young man. I'm sure you'll do great things."

Albus didn't think so. He didn't respond to Cadmus at all. He stared at a corner.

Cadmus patted Albus's arm. His footsteps sounded, then the door closed.

The whole house was quiet, except for Aberforth's snores next to him. He conjured up a blanket and draped it over him, then he lit a fire for the night.

Albus Dumbledore understood a lot of things. He understood the most complex of magical theory that went right over most wizards' heads. He understood the stars, Ancient Runes, the political systems of the world. He'd gotten many awards for his services to the school and the Wizengamot. He was supposed to work in the Ministry.

This, however, he didn't understand. Why did his sister have to die? Why did anyone have to die? He knew it was the reason why he wanted the Hallows. He never wanted death to touch him in any way. It hurt so much, left a hollowness in his chest and a overwhelming desire to have everything back to the way it was.

If there was one thing Albus Dumbledore didn't understand, it was the most natural of living processes. And that realization that Aberforth was right about that just…

He didn't even know the word for it.

He glanced at his brother.

He was smarter than Albus could ever be, wasn't he? He understood life and time much more greatly than Albus did.

Harry Potter did, too.

* * *

A/N: Excerpts from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 28- The Missing Mirror, Page 565-567, American Edition. Excerpt from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chapter 26- The Cave, Page 572-573, American Edition.


	32. 32: The Funeral

**Chapter 32: _The_ _Funeral_**

* * *

Albus leant up against the tree, staring up at Grindelwald's window. Bathilda said she'd woken up that morning to find all his things had been cleared out, despite an Auror standing watch outside.

Albus still couldn't believe his best friend had betrayed him like that. But then, he guessed Grindelwald wasn't really his friend. He'd left quickly, as soon as Ariana died. He left for good.

He knew Grindelwald was never coming back. Frankly, Albus didn't want to see him again. He was part of the reason why Ariana was dead. Albus couldn't even live with himself knowing that he could have easily been the one who actually killed her.

He'd set the funeral for the next day, his 18th birthday, without even realizing it until Aberforth said he was angry at him for setting it then. It would be an early service, though, so he had the rest of the day to wonder what he was going to do with his eighteenth year.

Albus jerked his head away from Grindelwald's window. No use staring at it when he wasn't even there. He sighed and stood to go around to the back garden to see how Aberforth was doing.

"Go away," Aberforth said as Albus approached him and the goats.

"Are you going to Hogwarts?" Albus asked.

Aberforth just huffed and pushed his blond hair out of his face. "What are you going to do? Sulk around here?"

"Definitely not," he said, sitting down on an upturned bucket.

"Hmpf," Aberforth said.

Aberforth hadn't wanted to talk all day. Albus didn't really, either. He'd only spoken to the pastor at the church and the grave attendant earlier that day. He decided that the funeral would only be graveside with his mother's sisters the only ones to be invited. Bathilda would come, as well. He just wanted something small and private. Aberforth felt the same.

He twisted a piece of grass around his finger, watching it turn from a light peach to a purple.

"You're going to cut your finger off if you do that long enough," Aberforth said.

"Magic can fix that, Ab."

"Magic can't fix everything."

Albus sighed and stood. "I'm going on a walk."

He wandered through the woods, just letting his thoughts overtake him. He found himself in the meadow where he and Harry met up. He lay on his back and stared up at the sky, watching the clouds as they passed by. Fawkes joined him soon after and he ran his hand absentmindedly through his plumage.

He wanted to know what he was doing with his life. He was so lost that he felt like his abilities were being wasted. He wasn't good enough for anything like his professors thought he would be. He was only good at school, wasn't he? Nothing else. He couldn't trust himself. Who knew what he could really do if he was given free reign.

He sighed and closed his eyes. What to do. What could he do? The Ministry was out of the question. He could find a good book shop to work in, or maybe an apothecary. He could become an apprentice, but he wasn't sure what to apprentice in.

How did he go from knowing exactly what he was going to do to not knowing at all? He was sure he'd be the Undersecretary in the Ministry, then he was sure he'd be partnered with Grindelwald. Now he had no prospects.

The sun was setting. He headed back toward the house, walking slowly through the woods.

Aberforth was sleeping on the floor when he got back. He sighed and lit a fire to read by.

* * *

Harry was nestled in the woods the next night. He could see that another fire was in the grate at the Dumbledore's. At least this time an Auror wasn't hanging around Bathilda's. He hadn't realized that one was there until early into the morning the night before. He supposed Grindelwald had come back to collect his things, probably he was now gone for good.

It was two before he saw Albus stand at the window again.

Harry wanted to talk to him more than anything. He felt constricted by following Flamel's orders. He was trying to restrain himself, but the older he got, the more he realized he needed to stop himself from rule-breaking. Technically, he was doing just that by being in Godric's Hollow, but this was a look out. He wasn't talking to Albus.

Harry wondered when the funeral would be. He'd gone to the church earlier and saw that they'd already dug the grave for her and already etched in the stone, just as Harry had see it on that Christmas Eve. The only difference was that the stone not was marred from age. It was pristine and new, just like the graves he'd seen of everyone who died in the Battle of Hogwarts.

In the window, Albus turned away, but the light didn't dim.

Harry frowned, wishing none of that had happened. He still felt guilty. He'd had the power to change it, but the power was useless. He couldn't change the timeline. No one ever could.

* * *

Albus walked side-by-side his brother to the church. Bathilda was leading the way, walking fast as if they'd miss the funeral.

"Your tie is crooked," Albus said, reaching over to fix it. Aberforth jerked away and glared at him.

He didn't say a word, though, as they made their way through the graveyard.

His aunts and their husbands were there already. The two hugged Margaret and Katrina, then they stood around the grave. Ariana's casket was already hovering above the grave.

"We are gathered here today-" said the pastor.

"Wait!" someone called out.

Albus turned just in time to Elphias stumble over a short grave a short distance away. He let a small smile form on his lips, but it dropped immediately. He didn't want to smile. He couldn't anymore.

Elphias stopped right next to Albus, leaning against him and breathing heavily. "Sorry I'm late. I just heard the news. I'm so sorry, Albus, Aberforth."

Albus nodded and looked down at the casket solemnly. "It's… it's all right."

"All right?" Aberforth repeated, looking at Albus. His blue eyes narrowed. "This is not all right, Albus! This is very far from all right."

"I-" Albus started. "I just meant-"

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't become friends with that bastard!" Aberforth yelled, his hands curling into fists.

"I know!" Albus yelled back, glaring at Aberforth. "Do you think I don't realize-"

He only saw a blur and then a sickening crunch sounded too close to his head. A second later, his face began to throb, specifically his nose and knees. His hands immediately jumped to his face and he felt something thick and wet on his hand. He looked at it and saw that a pool of bright red blood had formed in his palm. His eyes became watery and he was shocked to realize he was kneeling on the ground.

"Aberforth!" Bathilda called out.

"Here, let me-" she said. Albus could just see her pull out her wand, but he cold barely see anything else.

Albus shook his head and choked out a sob, then pushed passed Bathilda and Elphias. "Nob, I don'b wanb ib."

"Albus, be-"

"Nob!" he said, pushing her out of the way. He just wanted to leave. He didn't want to do this anymore.

He rushed away, tripping over a grave stone just like Elphias did. He didn't let it stop him, though.

* * *

Harry's eyes widened as soon as he heard the crack of knuckles against cartilage. A force that had been pressing around Harry since Albus yelled at Aberforth subsided. Albus was down on his knees, clutching his nose as blood began to drip through his fingers.

Aberforth kicked the ground, looking as if he meant to kick Albus but decided against it last second.

"Aberforth!" Bathilda said, dropping to Albus's side.

Bathilda tried to fix it for him, but Albus bluntly refused and pushed her away. Blood dripped through his fingers as he ran off toward the woods instead of town.

Harry ran after Albus, dodging the headstones much more easily than Albus did. Soon, though, he lost Albus within the trees and instead followed the blood stains on the ground. Footsteps followed close behind him, though he didn't bother to look. He knew they were Elphias's. He was the only one besides Harry who would follow Albus.

They ran for five minutes, not saying anything to each other until the found Albus leaning up against a tree in the meadow.

His robes were stained with blood and he was wiping his face continually, blood mixing with tears.

"Albus," Elphias said, falling beside him.

"Elbias," Albus said through his tears. "I dibn't meab to. Why can't he just kilb me? I deserbe it. Ib's all my faulb. Ib's all mineb."

Elphias shook his head. "No, you didn't do it. You know it."

"I dib!" he yelled. Harry swallowed, watching on. "I dib…"

Elphias put his arms around his oldest friend. Albus fell immediately into him. Harry just stood and watched, covered by the invisibility cloak, one of things that led Albus to this. He'd been striving for it, but now al he had was a broken nose, a dead sister, and an angry brother.

In the distance, he could hear Fawkes' cries as he flew closer, coming to comfort his owner. The sound of both Albus' and Fawkes' cries overwhelmed Harry, the phoenix's song too sad, hardly uplifting.

He fell to his knees, tears slowly escaping his tear ducts. The sound was so painful. It reminded Harry too much of his last song after Dumbledore died. So painful to see his old mentor in such pain, just like the cave all over again, but this time new and real like the gravestone.

Albus couldn't stop. It was impossible for him, even when Fawkes swooped down next to him to rub his face against Albus's blood stained hand.

Fawkes cooed.

Harry could tell Albus was just letting the pain tear him to pieces.

* * *

Elphias led Albus away through the trees. His nose still throbbed, he couldn't breathe, and his head pounded. Fawkes clutched onto his shoulder, singing softly to him.

"I shoulb leabe," Albus said. Fawkes rested his head against Albus'. "I habe to."

Elphias shook his head. "No. Stay here. Your brother needs you."

"Nob, he doesn'b," he said. "He neebs Ariana. Nob meb."

"Why won't you let us fix your nose? I can't understand what you're saying."

"I deserbe much more than a broken nose."

They were beginning to approach town just as the sun hit high noon. Albus dropped his head when he noticed the town's people watch him. Elphias continued to lead him to the house. He, in fact, was the only person he welcomed at the moment. Albus looked behind him once, knowing that Harry was trailing behind.

As they headed up the path to the house, Albus stopped midway, looking straight up at it. He didn't want to go in again.

"Albus," Harry said from behind him.

He turned to look at him, wondering what his reaction would be when he set his eyes on him. Harry wasn't hiding. And Albus didn't have to wonder for long what emotion he'd have. All he could think was Harry had left him. He left! And now he was going to leave again. This time for good, for 80 years.

"You knew," Albus said darkly, anger pulsing through his body. "You knew this wholb time."

"You saw my memories of your brother," Harry said.

"Why!" Albus yelled. "Why didn'b you tell me before!"

Harry took a step back. "I couldn't change anything! Believe me, I wanted to. I never wanted you to suffer this way. But this had to happen!"

Albus started shaking. Fawkes cooed again, trying to calm him, but even he couldn't stop it. Albus drew his wand and Harry drew his.

"Albus," Elphias warned.

"Albus, please, I know you're angry."

"Angry!" Albus yelled. "Nob! You coub've stopped this! You dibn'b!"

A red light shot out of Albus's wand. Harry yelled out, "Expelliarmus!" and dodged the spell. As Albus's wand flew out of his hand, the gate lining the yard burst into flames.

Elphias said, "Aguamenti," to put out the fire. Albus just wished the fire spread. He waved his hand and Harry was thrown back. He wanted Harry to hurt. He let this happen when he could have warned him instead. He would've been more cautious. He knew it.

"Albus Dumbledore! Stop!"

He looked up, seeing Bathilda run toward him down the road. Her wand was out and immediately his magic released. He glanced at Harry, who attempted to stand, but each time he tried, he fell back.

"You're better than that!" Bathilda yelled, stepping through the gate and stomping up to him. "You know you are."

Albus doubted it. After all he did in the past month or so… He'd been foolish and arrogant. Something in her voice, though, something like sincerity, caused him to realize he was actually exhausted. He'd hardly slept since Ariana died.

His face heated up in tears again. He petted Fawkes' head.

"You need sleep," Bathilda said. With a wave of her wand, she cleaned the blood off him, and then tapped her wand against his nose, saying, "Episkey." Immediately he was able to breathe again. "You should've let me fix it before. It's crooked."

"I don't care," Albus said, defeated. He turned on his heel. "I'm going to bed."

No one followed him inside, which he was glad for. But Aberforth was in the front room, messing with the fireplace.

Aberforth glared at him, but Albus couldn't have cared less about that. He deserved it all. He'd been so thick.

"I'm sorry, Aberforth," he said. "I'm so sorry."

Aberforth glared at him and turned back to the fireplace with a grunt. Albus felt more tears slip down his cheek, and with that, he continued on his way to bed.


	33. 33: Purpose

**Chapter 33: _Purpose_**

When Albus woke up, the house was still. The only sound he could hear was Fawkes preening his feathers on the desk. He wondered why he felt so miserable, and realized what had happened again. Now he knew why he hadn't slept for before.

He slipped out of bed and changed out of the clothes he meant to wear to the funeral, though the funeral had never even started.

For a moment, he paced around his room, trying to figure out what he should do. He still wasn't sure. But first, he decided, he needed to talk to someone. And the closest person was Bathilda.

She made him tea and sat him down in her living room. He sipped the tea while Ariana's death replayed in his mind again.

"Albus, don't let this ruin you," she said as she sat down across from him.

He shook his head and pushed away a tear that fell from his eye. "What should I do? I don't know what to do."

"What do you feel in your heart?"

He gnawed on his lip and looked down at the empty grate. "I want to leave. It's my birthday. I want to start again."

"Go where?"

"I don't know."

Bathilda reached over and lifted his chin up. For a long while they stared at each other. She wasn't trying to pry into his mind, though. She was trying to provide comfort. He could see that in her mind. He sighed and looked away.

"Where do you feel safe, Albus?"

He didn't have to think about that. "Hogwarts," he said immediately. "Professor Black doesn't need anyone, though. For work."

"You'd be surprised. Haven't you heard the Ancient Runes professor is retiring?"

Albus shook his head. "I don't know how to teach that. Transfiguration is my best subject. I know Professor Garside isn't retiring anything soon."

Bathilda sighed, letting go of his chin and leaning back in her chair. "You could always take a job at the Ministry."

A sharp pain spread through his chest. It took him a moment to realize it was fear. "No."

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "I can't… It gives me room to more up. I don't want that responsibility. Not anymore."

"Go talk to Phineas, then," Bathilda said, patting his hand. "He'll give you something, I'm sure. Go now. I'll watch Aberforth. Do what your heart tells you."

He nodded, standing, but he didn't make any move to leave. Tears were still slipping down his face. He wished he could stop crying. Bathilda reached up to wipe them off with her thumbs.

"Albus," she said, holding onto the sides of his face and looking into his eyes again. "It's your choices that make you who you are. Not your brilliance."

He choked. "I wish someone had told me that before."

She smiled a sad smile. "Now you know. The hard way. Good luck."

"Thank you."

She nodded and stepped away.

As he apparated from the spot, he knew what she said was completely right.

* * *

Harry stood in front of Nicolas Flamel. The Elixir of Epoch was ready and Nicolas was pouring it into a ruby encrusted goblet. Harry's hands were shaking as he reached out to take it.

"Think of the exact time and place you want to appear in," he said.

"Is there any way you can make Dumbledore forget I was here?" Harry asked, looking down at the golden Elixir. It turned from green to gold as soon as he put his hair in.

"Do you really want to deprive him of his memories?"

"Well, no, but it might be safer. For the future."

Nicolas gained a thoughtful expression. Harry swirled the potion.

"Of course. If that is what you wish. The past is a dangerous place to work in. Of course."

"But will you do something else for me?" Harry asked, reaching into his pocket for the two letters he'd written before the funeral even started. "Could you give this one to him before you wipe his memory? And this one, could you charm it to come to him on June 23, 1997? I'd like him to have his memories back before he dies, at least."

Flamel nodded. "You won't see him again, then."

"No, but I've learned more about him in this past year than I did in the six years I knew him in my time."

Harry looked back down at the potion and put it up to his lips. He thought hard about appearing outside of the Auror office in 1998, just a few minutes before the break-in occurred. But even more, he thought about seeing his friends again. He missed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny more than ever before.

The last words he heard before he popped out of a time he never belonged in were, "Good luck, Harry Potter."

* * *

"I'm flattered you wish to work here, Dumbledore," Professor Black said, staring steely eyed at him. "But no position is open at the present time. Why not the Ministry? They are looking for-"

"I don't mean to be disrespectful, Professor," said Dumbledore, cutting him off. Black huffed. "I don't trust myself there."

Professor Black laughed humorlessly. "Trust? Trust! Why don't you trust yourself?"

"Not to be arrogant, Professor, most regard me as someone who has enormous potential to be great. I'm scared that if I were there, I'd make political matters worse. I would like to stay here at Hogwarts."

Professor Black sighed and stood, looking about the room as if he were deciding a minor rat problem in the dungeons. Albus's chest fluttered in nervousness. What if he didn't have a job for him? What would he do?

"I do believe…" Professor Black said, running a hand across the books on the shelf. "We would benefit from having a research librarian, to help with what types of books the school should have and to help other students research. Would you be willing to do that?"

"I'll do anything."

Professor Black nodded, not looking at him. "I'll put you on payroll."

Dumbledore smiled and let his eyes twinkle for the first time in days.

"May I walk around?" Dumbledore asked, standing.

"Yes, I suppose I can't stop you."

As he exited the Headmaster's office through the gargoyles, he realized how much calmer Hogwarts felt than Godric's Hollow. This was where Albus had done his best, this was his home. Though the corridors were a bit chilly, a warmth fell over him. He loved this school and he could feel its magic surrounding him in comfort.

Ninety more years until Harry Potter graced these halls, though. He sighed as he let the staircases move around, as if guiding him where to go. Only when they stopped, he realized he was near Merrythought's office. He walked along, looking up at the tapestry of trolls banging each other over the head with their clubs.

The door to the office was ajar and he heard two voices drifting through the crack. He knocked lightly.

Merrythought opened the door, tilting her head immediately when she saw who was standing before her.

"Dumbledore," she said. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced up to see Professor Garside standing by her desk with a piece of parchment in his hand.

"I was just with Professor Black," Dumbledore said, nodding at Garside. "I asked for a job."

"Oh?" Garside said.

Merrythought opened the door all the way and let him in. He stepped into the room, his hands behind him back.

"I'm to work in the library," he announced. "But I was hoping, Professor, if you would mentor me further in Transfiguration."

Garside stared blankly at him, then glanced at Merrythought. "I hate to admit, Dumbledore. I feel you surpassed my abilities around three years ago."

Dumbledore sighed, glancing down at the stone covered floor. Of course he wouldn't be able to. Albus was about to turn away to leave.

"But," Garside said, putting the parchment down on the table. "I believe I'll retire. I've always enjoyed gardening. I would like to leave this school in a few years to pursue that. Would you say yes to being my teaching assistant like Potter was to Merrythought? Eventually I hope you'll become full time professor."

Dumbledore looked up, eyes wide and surprised Garside actually said yes. He nodded. "Thank you, sir. That is very kind of you."

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Merrythought said, sitting at the edge of her desk. "I haven't seen him in months."

Dumbledore shrugged. "I saw him a few hours ago. He's supposed to go back soon, but I'm afraid I was too harsh on him the last I saw him."

"Yes, I know," Merrythought said, glancing at Garside. She left it at that. Garside didn't know the circumstances. Dumbledore was sure he'd go off telling someone if he knew more. "Would you like to stay for tea?"

He nodded and took the seat she offered him. Garside left, saying, "I'll see you on September first."

A few minutes passed silently. Merrythought stirred her tea slowly as she looked down at the grounds thoughtfully. "I did like that boy."

He nodded in agreement. He would miss Harry just as much as he would miss his sister.

"What kind of work will you do here?" she asked.

Albus began talking, but as he did, he felt an intense guilt pass through his entire body. He shouldn't have done that to Harry. There was no reason to blame him. None at all. After an hour, Albus couldn't take the guilt anymore. He left the school to find Harry and apologize.

* * *

Of course, Dumbledore never expected this. The fact that Harry left without Albus having time to say sorry made him feel even worse about the incident in front of his house.

"He's gone. I let him go," Flamel said. He paused and his voice became softer. "You'll see him again."

Dumbledore shook his head over and over again, still not believing it. "He won't be born for another 81 years."

"So? What are you going to do in the meantime?"

Dumbledore looked up, his eyes dark. "The meantime? I'm going to live with the guilt that I hurt him for 81 years!"

"It didn't seem to traumatize him as much as you expect," said Flamel, his lips twisting into a small grin. "He left you a letter."

Dumbledore eagerly waited for his mentor to pull out a bit of parchment from his robe pocket. His hand shot out, wanting it, but Flamel held back. "What are you planning on doing with your life, Albus?"

"Hogwarts," he said. "I saw Professor Black. I'm a librarian for now. I'll be Transfiguration professor as soon as Garside retires."

Flamel smiled and finally let Albus take the letter.

He tore open the wax seal, his hands shaking. He wasn't sure why he felt so urgent about this, but he had to see what Harry said.

_Dear Albus,_

_I'm not mad at you. You have every right to be angry with me. I'm sorry I couldn't save your sister and I'm sorry I never told you much about my past. But my past is your future someday. You'll learn._

_Harry Potter_

Albus frowned, looking onto the back. "That's it?" he said.

But a moment later, Albus saw a wand leave his sight. He blinked in confusion and looked around. Why was he here? Hadn't he just been at Hogwarts talking to Professor Black? Oh, of course. He was telling Flamel about his job.

"Sorry," Albus said, blinking again. "Garside said I'll be his assistant."

Flamel smiled. "He'll probably give you a project like I did. Could I see it? You've worked on it more since I approved it, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes," Albus said, reaching into his pocket. "I called it the Deluminator. I want to add a function that will allow the lights to show you a way if you're ever lost."

"That is a brilliant idea," Flamel said, patting his shoulder. "Tell me more about it and how you think you'll execute it."

For an hour, he forgot all about his sister's death, but he knew the pain of loosing her would never go away. Nor the pain of Gellert Grindelwald's influence.

He wasn't content. But at least he was safe where he was, with only the future ahead of him.


	34. Epilogue: September 6, 1998

**Epilogue: _September 6, 1998_**

Aberforth Dumbledore stared up at his clock.

"Almost time, Ariana," he said, placing a hand over his old leather journal. "He should be back very soon."

He'd already set out a tray of bread, cheese, and mead on the coffee table. His foot jumped up and down for the moment he'd waited one hundred years for. Strange it had been so long. He was an old man now. His body ached, especially his joints and head. He'd lived too long.

He picked up the journal under his hand, his fifteenth birthday present from his brother. The edges were blunt and the pages were yellow, but the pencil and ink he'd used in it was still clear. He flipped to a page, studying the drawing of Harry Potter he'd done all those years ago, right on the page with the Grindylows.

He looked up, swearing he'd heard a creak of the stairs.

He set his lips in a firm line just as the door to the sitting room opened.

Harry Potter stood there, wearing his blue Auror robes, but underneath he was still wearing the same shirt and jeans he'd worn when Albus fought him on the walkway at Godric's Hollow.

"Do you remember?" Harry asked.

Aberforth nodded, gesturing to the tray he set out. Harry crossed the room. One hundred years hadn't changed him at all, of course. Aberforth felt envious of that. He'd traveled so far, yet not a line of age etched his face yet.

"I came as soon as work finished," Harry said, tearing the bread apart.

"I thought you would," Aberforth said, leaning forward. "I hope you feel you know my brother much better now. Your disillusions of him in May were ridiculous."

"May?" Harry asked in confusion. "Oh, last year. No, wait, it was four months ago, wasn't it? I'm still 18. Not 19."

Aberforth nodded, reaching for the album that sat on the coffee table by the tray. He gave it to Harry, who seemed perplexed as to why Aberforth was giving it to him. But when he opened it, he smiled. "It's my birthday present from the Flamel's!" he said, flipping through it. "The pictures look so old now."

"They are," Aberforth said.

Harry glanced at Aberforth before looking closely at a page. "Albus never remembered, did he?"

"No," Aberforth confirmed. "Not until the day he died. He came by here that morning to show me this long letter you'd written on his eighteenth birthday. He asked me if it was true, if you really traveled into the past."

"What did you say?" Harry asked. He caught Aberforth's eye.

Aberforth sighed. He never did like to remember the day his brother died. Aberforth was the last Dumbledore now, and even though he'd hated Albus for so many years, he still missed him every day. Albus had looked so weary, old, lost of the energy he always had. Aberforth knew immediately upon seeing him that Albus would die soon.

"I told him it was true. He accepted it without a second thought. He said, 'It's time, Aberforth. I need to retrieve Harry and allow him to finish this war.' He left after that."

Aberforth sighed again, his thoughts turning to the small, dimly lit chamber where Hagrid brought Albus's body. "The last time I saw him he was on a slab."

Harry's face grew pale, but he didn't speak. He closed the album and stood, stepping in front of Ariana's portrait. She smiled kindly at him.

"I wish I could have done something more," Harry said. "I'm sorry I let her die."

"It's not your fault," Aberforth said, joining Harry. He looked up at his sister longingly, then down at the piece of broken glass he still had on his mantel. Right next to it sat a small painting he'd done of Albus.

It wasn't his brother's fault, either. Albus's portrait smiled in the same way as Ariana, his blue eyes twinkling over the half-moon glasses.

"Do you think he forgave me?" Harry asked, solemnly watching Albus's portrait.

The portrait's eyes flickered to Harry, his serene smile never dropped.

Aberforth never answered.

He was sure Harry understood.

AHAHAHA

Harry fell onto an armchair at The Borrow. He'd changed his clothes upstairs and was now staring across the room at books Hermione had left.

Among them was the old copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. He stood stiffly, finally feeling the wear of traveling into the future. His joints cracked and ached.

He cringed at the bang of pots being smashed together in the kitchen. It was Ron and George's turn to help Mrs. Weasley cook that night. Ron yelled out, "Oi! Watch it!"

"What, little brother? I didn't do anything. You were the one who practically threw the pan across the room."

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry laughed, thinking of Aberforth and Albus's spats. Strange how one of the greatest wizards who ever lived had the same problem with his little brother as George.

Harry plucked the old Tales book from the stack. He stared at it. He remembered seeing it on Albus's shelf, but it had had white pages and a golden colored cover. Now it was a light brown and the pages were nimble.

"Hi, Harry."

He glanced up at Hermione coming in from the garden. She smiled at him, but then a look of confusion crossed her features.

"What?" Harry asked, wondering if there was something on his face.

"Nothing," Hermione said, stepping up closer to him. "You just look… older. Strange. It's something about your jaw line."

He shrugged, glancing down at the book in his hand. "Can I borrow this?"

"Why?"

"I want to read it."

"You?" Hermione said, laughing. "Read for fun? Will you finally read Hogwarts: A History now?"

He smiled, looking around to see if she had it by. And, strangely, she did. He grabbed it up, staring at the name Bathilda Bagshot. He probably wouldn't read it all. Maybe just the chapter covering the late 1800s.

"Thanks, Hermione."

She continued to stare at him. Harry could feel her eyes on him.

"What?" he asked, glancing up as he settled into the armchair again.

She shook her head, but he caught her faint smile as she went to join George, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen.

He wasn't expecting to find anything as he flipped through the old book of fairy tales. He saw the name Albus Dumbledore written in the front cover, saw the Deathly Hallows sign that Dumbledore had written in over the brother's tale. He read through it, taking in the words that Dumbledore read many times before, the one thing he reveled in for nearly 115 years, something that caused him so much pain and longing his whole life.

Harry closed the book when he finished. He needed to be done with it, needed to forget it. The Dumbledores lived their lives the way they were meant to live them all along.

"Harry," Hermione said, peeking into the sitting room with his new owl, Ariana, on her arm. "You've got a letter."

He suspected it was from Ginny, who had started her last year at Hogwarts. Ariana flew over to him, landing on Hogwarts: A History.

He unraveled the note.

However, it wasn't from Ginny.

The emerald green ink and loopy handwriting was not what he expected at all. In fact, seeing the script make his chest ache. His last letter from Dumbledore.

_June 23, 1997_

_Harry,_

_It was a great surprise to me to learn the reason why my memories of my seventh year at Hogwarts were lacking._

_I've spoken with my brother, who I'm sure you will know by the time you receive this letter. I will ever be thankful to you for being a friend that last year and allowing my fate to run its course._

_Be wiser than I was, Harry. You have many more years to live._

_Thank you,_

_Albus_

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head and pocketed the parchment, but he made a mental note to put it in his mokeskin pouch later on. "Just a letter. What are Ron and George making?"

"I'm not even sure."

He laughed and followed Hermione into the kitchen. Ron and George fought over who would put out the plates and wash the dishes. Watching them as he sat at the kitchen table, eating hard candies and speaking with Hermione, made him realize he was comfortable in his time.

He was finally back to where he belonged.

But he would never forget his time in the past, nor would he ever tell a soul.

**The End**

* * *

A/N: Whoa. I cannot believe I've actually finished! I've never finished a fan fiction before. And this took three years to write! I began writing this on April 29, 2010, in my freshman year of college. Now it's already been four months since I graduated from college. That's insane.

I know this story isn't perfect. I feel I glazed through some parts and dropped others, and didn't flesh out some characters enough. I may do a rewrite in the future. All I know for sure is that I'm going to do a collection of oneshots called Missed Perceptions as a companion to this.

Thank you all for the support and for reading! I appreciate it so much.


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